


my baby shot me down (bang bang)

by ariadne_odair



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - High School, BAMF Natasha, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Growing Up Together, Kid Loki, Kid Steve, Kid Thor, Loki Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Protective Thor, Steve Has Issues, Thor Feels, feels everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your brother's a dick."</p><p>Steve jumps, startling as a boy slams his books down onto the desk next to him.</p><p>"My brother?"</p><p>"You're Steve Odinson, right?" the boy asks. Steve nods, and the boy huffs like an angry horse. "Yeah, your brother. Not the one who looks like a blond Viking. The other one. Pokey."</p><p>"You mean Loki," Steve corrects, then realises what the boy's said, apprehension curling in his stomach, "Oh God, what did he do?"</p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Steve is adopted by the Odins, and it's not all plaiting hair and pillow fights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you're my downfall (you're my muse)

_Age Five_

Steve meets Thor and Loki at a funeral, when he is five.

The funeral's for Mama, because Mama never recovered from being sick, and now Steve is in an itchy suit, in a cold church, while lots of people sit around him looking upset. He doesn't really understand it, to be honest. He had to say goodbye to Mama, even though he secretly thinks she's probably just asleep. She looked asleep anyway, eyes closed, pretty as picture which is something his Daddy used to say.

He wasn't allowed to stay in their house, so he had to go to stay with his neighbour, Mr Frank. Mr Frank is nice, but he's very old. He calls Steve 'Peter' sometimes.

The church is nice, he supposes. They played Mama's favourite hymn,  _Abide With Me,_ and lots of people stood up and said nice things about her. There's lots of flowers everywhere, white ones, but the sickly smell makes his head spin.

Steve's trying not to pick the sleeve of his suit, when he sees them. There are two little boys sitting in the pew opposite him. One of them, the one with blond hair, is swinging his feet, heels kicking back and forth. The other one, who doesn't look anything like the first one, is sitting with his hands in his lap, but he keeps glaring at the blond one.

As Steve watches, the dark haired one pinches the blond one in the arm. The blond one immediately stops kicking, and roars, punching the other boy. Steve watches the scuffle, amused, until a beautiful woman tells them off and they stop, expressions mutinous. For some reason, the beautiful woman makes Steve's chest feel all hollow, caved in like a shell. He misses Mama.

When the funeral is over - and people keep saying sorry to Steve, which is a bit strange - the two little boys come over. They're followed by a  _huge_ man, with a stern face and white hair. 

"Hello, Steven," the man says, bending down slightly, "My name is Odin. I was a good friend of your Mother's. Do you remember your Mother talking about me?"

Steve squints. "You're the one who sends us snowy post cards every year. And Mama met you when she was doing research for her writing."

"That's right," Odin says, nodding, and Steve feels a rush of pride that he remembered. "This is my wife, Frigga, and my sons - "

"It's not a  _snowy place,"_ the blond boy says loudly, face scrunched up, "It's  _Norway - "_

"Thor," Odin says sharply, and the boy sighs, but stays quiet. "Don't be rude. Steven, this is Thor and Loki. They are the same age as you."

The one with black hair - Loki - smiles, peering around Thor's shoulder. Thor pushes forward, grabbing Steve's hand and shaking it. "My name's Thor Odinson, and I'm five and half, which makes me older than Loki, so I get to stay up later at bed time. Loki's not my real brother though, he was 'dopted, which is when you - "

"Thor," Odin says again, grabbing Thor and pulling him back, "Let the boy speak. What have we said about manners?"

Thor deflates, but he apologises quickly, shooting a grin at Steve. "Sorry, Father."

"Good," Odin says approvingly, "Now, Steven - "

"Are you taking me home?" Steve asks quickly, blushing, but there's an ache in his chest that feels like a hurricane, battering against his ribs, forcing him to speak. "I can't go to my home, can I? I don't - "

The hurricane gets louder, and Steve swallows, tears pricking in his eyes. Odin opens his mouth to speak, but it's Thor that rushes forward. He hugs Steve - which is weird, but not awful. Thor is soft, and his hair tickles Steve's face. Steve feels something tug his hand, and realises Loki is squeezing it.

"It's okay," Thor says, and his blue eyes shine bright, "We're brothers now."

 

 

That night, at Odin's house - which is ten times bigger than his, Frigga and Odin have a  _special talk_ with Steve. They explain that they won't try and replace Steve's real mom and dad, but that Steve is welcome to live with them for as long as he likes.

Steve shares a room with Thor and Loki. He likes Thor - even though he's so loud, and he likes Loki - even though he's so quiet. Odin and Frigga read them a bedtime story from Norway, with dragons and elves and magic. Steve is hooked - Mama used to read to him, but his fairy tale book was second hand, and sometimes her voice was too weak.

Steve would read to her then, all her favourite books, and sometimes articles from the news. Mama liked the news, because she was a journalist, which means you go to lots of exciting places and write about it. She would always stroke Steve's face with a quivering hand, telling him he was a "good boy."

Friggs and Odin turn off the light, then Steve is alone, in his new big boy bed, in a new house.

He's a little scared.

At least he is until Thor and Loki slip into his bed. Steve almost has a heart attack, but Thor gives him a toothy grin, curling up around him and falling asleep straight away.

Loki hovers on the edge of the mattress, eyes squinting at Steve. "Hi," he whispers shyly, green eyes blinking in the dark, "Thor's really loud, but he's nice. He's a good big brother."

"You don't look like him," Steve whispers back, "You have dark hair."

Loki shuffles. "I'm 'dopted, too. My parents died in an accident when I was little, but we don't talk about. Mom says I'm too young."

Steve can feel his eyes widen. "I'm sorry your parents died."

Loki nod. "You too."

They stare at each for a while, until Thor lets out a massive snore, and they both collapse into giggles, laughter shaking the bed.

"Night," Loki whispers eventually, and Steve thinks maybe having brothers won't be too bad.

 

 

Loki was right - Thor is  _loud._

He's the first one up in the morning, jumping on Steve's bed and shaking him. Thor tries to wake Loki up, but Loki just huddles further under the duvet, mumbles indiscernible. Thor tugs him downstairs, hand in hand, shouting about pancakes and golden syrup, small hand hot.

The kitchen has huge glass windows, light streaming in, and Steve thinks Thor is a bit like the sun, golden and unmissable and  _warm._ When Thor eats his pancakes, he gives Steve half, and gets syrup all over his face. He speaks non-stop throughout, telling Steve about the garden, the pool, his favourite food, his favourite colour, a constant stream of chatter that makes Steve dizzy.

When Loki comes downstairs, held on Odin's hip, head tucked in Odin's neck, Thor is even more excited, waving his fork around. He gives Loki a big kiss on the cheek when Odin drops him into his seat, spooning half his pancakes onto Loki's plate. Thor gets up to make Loki some juice - "I can do it on my  _own,_ Mother. I am  _five," -_ and Loki smiles at Steve, shaking his head.

Frigga smiles at him, too. "What lovely table manners, Steve. Thor, you could take some pointers from him."

Thor turns around to answer, indignant, but manages to drop an entire pitcher of juice,  _all over the floor._ Frigga shrieks, juice spilling on her shoes. Odin is shouting, Loki is laughing, and Steve's chest feels a little less hollow.

 

 

If Thor is loud, Loki is  _quiet._

Loki shows him his books on Norway, reaching up on his tippy toes to reach it. Loki shows him pictures of snow, acres and acres of it. It's pure white, not like the dirty grey mush that accumulates on New York streets like a mould.

In Loki's book there is an animal section, showing pretty, white foxes, weasels, lemmings. There's even a  _polar bear._ Steve has only ever seen a polar bear in Central Park Zoo, and that was when he was very little so he doesn't remember.

"Did you see a polar bear?" Steve asks, eye wide, and Loki shakes his head.

"No, we never saw one. But if you ask Thor he'll tell you he fought one single handedly. That's not true though."

"Oh," Steve says, turning a page. He reads the words in his head:  _Minke Whale_. "Did you see one of those?"

"I think people hunt them," Loki says, wrinkling his nose, "Along the coast."

"Oh. That's sad."

"This is an  _even_ better book," Loki says, grabbing another one from the shelf. He opens it carefully, and Steve can see where the spine has cracked from constant use. "This is what I got for my birthday." He pauses. "When's your birthday?"

"4th July," Steve says absent mindedly, "You know, with all the fireworks."

"Don't tell Thor," Loki says darkly, "Thor and fireworks would be a disaster."

 

 

"Do you miss your real mom?" Loki asks him later that night. They're having a bath together, like little boys do, and Loki's hair is sticking up in all directions. 

Steve bites his lip, splashing a little in the water. "Yes. She's not coming back, is she?"

Loki picks up a rubber duck, inspects it, then hands it to Steve. Steve takes it, and makes it play with Loki's duck, trying to knock each other out the water until they get tired. Steve lets his duck float along the water, bobbing along. 

"Mine didn't," Loki says quietly, and then they sit in silence apart from the gentle lapping of water against the side of the bath. 

 

 

When Steve has been staying at the Odin's for a little while, Frigga asks him if he'd like to go on a trip to Washington. Steve's not sure what to say, but Thor is very excited and Loki wants to go, so he just says yes please, very quietly. 

It's cold in Washington, so they all have to dress up. Thor and Loki have fluffy hats from Norway, and little mittens. Thor's mittens are red, Loki's are green. Frigga lets Steve borrow a coat from Loki, doing it up carefully around his chin.

"I'll have to get you some new clothes," she says absent mindedly, fingers cool on his skin, "It'll be winter soon, you'll be needing a coat, shoes - "

"Sorry," Steve says, feeling very small. He doesn't mean to be  _trouble._ "I can just wear Loki's coat, I don't mind - "

"Oh, no, no," Frigga says, taken aback, "No, Steve, it's fine. I don't mind getting you stuff, you - you live here now."

Steve is suddenly very happy Thor and Loki are already in the car, because he can feel himself getting tearful. He doesn't mean to, it just he misses his Mama  _so much._

"Steve," Frigga says firmly, and then she's hugging him. It reminds Steve of his Mama a bit, the smell of her perfume, the comfort of her arms. He swallows, hugging back, arms tight.

"It's okay to miss her," Frigga says softly, pulling back. She gently pushes back Steve's fringe, smoothing the fly away strands. "She loved you very much, and we will never replace her. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," Steve says, taking a deep breath. His insides feel shaky. "I do like being here, I do."

"You can like being here and miss her," Frigga says gently, and Steve feels his insides settle a little. "Now," Frigga says, squeezing his hand, "Shall we go to Washington?"

 

 

"Hold  _my hand,_ Loki."

"Don't want to."

"You have to hold my hand when you cross the road, that's the  _rule."_

"I don't have to hold  _your_  hand, that's not in the rules."

"Mom! Loki's crossing the road without holding my hand!"

"No he's not, please don't whine, Thor."

"Ha."

"Shut up, Loki."

"OW!"  
  
"OW!"

"Boys!"

"Why don't I just stand in the middle, and then you can hold both my hands? I've never been to Washington before."

"What a good idea, Steve. Don't you agree, boys?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Steve's hand is nicer than yours."

 

 

Steve's favourite part of the museum is the animals. Frigga explains they're not actually real animals, they're stuffed. Steve thinks it's a bit sad being stuck in a glass box, but he likes the lions, loves the okapi, and thinks the polar bear is pretty cool.

Loki likes all the weird sea animals, the squids encased in the glass, the displays that read complicated names of long ago fish. Loki also likes the displays of life through the ages, laughing at the giant sloth skeleton and the cave men models.

Thor likes the planes, running around and making engine noises. He tackles Loki to the floor, shouting, but Loki kicks him and hides behind Steve.

Frigga buys them a cuddly wolf from the gift shop, even though it's  _seven dollars._

Thor calls his wolf "The Destroyer." Loki calls his wolf "Little Wolf." Steve calls his wolf "Jamie," which probably says a lot about them, really.

 

_Age Six_

When Steve is a little over six, they all go to visit his mom's grave.

Steve tells her all about what he's been doing, about Thor, about Loki. How Frigga and Odin take out to the park, and museums, how every Saturday Odin makes pancakes. He tells her about his new room, his big boy bed, the drawing of the three of them Loki gave him for his birthday. 

Steve cries, but Frigga and Odin squeeze his hands, and when he comes back Loki and Thor give him a big hug.

It hurts a little less.

 

 

_Age Eight_

"You shouldn't hang over the banister, you'll hurt yourself."

"No, I won't," Thor calls, but he comes back into the room, throwing himself down on Steve's bed. He snatches the book that Steve's reading out of his hand. "What are you reading?"

Steve sighs, grabbing the book back and elbowing Thor in the ribs. "It's about - " He stops when he sees Thor's already switched off, rolling his eyes at Loki from the other bed. "What were you doing out there any way?"

"Dad's having a big dinner party," Thor says, eye gleaming, "Do you want to go see if we can steal some biscuits?"

Steve shakes his head, turning back to his book. "No, Thor! You're already in trouble for kicking the football over the fence, you can't get into even more trouble."

"Yeah, Thor," Loki says from the bed, idly flicking through his own book, "You don't want to get stopped from going to Lucy Carter's party, do you?"

"Why would I care if I go to her party?" Thor grumbles, sitting up. He kicks his heels back and forth against the bed frame, and it's so reminiscent of two years ago in the church, that Steve has to blink and refocus.

"Fine, I'll tell Mother you don't want to go," Loki says slyly, and Thor starts, shaking his head.

"No, don't tell her that," Thor hisses, scowling. "Stop being such a  _pest,_ Loki."

"I'm just saying," Loki shrugs, licking his fingers and turning the page, "The shade of pink your cheeks turn around Miss Carter is delightful, all the same."

Thor flushes, and Loki snickers. "I don't blush! That's what  _girls_ do."

Loki goes in for the kill. "Then you must be a  _girl_  then."

Steve grabs the mattress as Thor leaps from the bed. He tackles Loki, pinning him down.

Steve keeps reading. It's not exactly an uncommon occurrence - Loki winds Thor up and Thor reacts. They're like magnets, unable to be too far far from the other, but unbearable when they're forced together, locked in tight.

Steve glances at them, Thor's larger body bracketed over Loki's smaller one, Loki squirming as Thor tickles him, their laughter mixing together. 

"Are you sure it's not Loki you have crush on Thor?" Steve teases, "You certainly seem to be getting very cosy over there."

Thor freezes, mouth open to retort, and Loki takes the opportunity to push Thor off the bed, cackling.

Which would be fine - Steve's long past concerned about Loki's violent tendencies with regards to Thor - only Thor hits the bed side table as he goes down, skull hitting the side with an audible  _smack._

The silence is awful.

"Thor?" Loki says, and his voice cracks in the middle. "Thor?"

Loki scrambles off the bed, crouching down. Steve pushes himself off his own bed, heart racing as he walks forward. Thor is laying there, spread eagled, eyes shut. Loki is touching him, running his hands all over him, pressing an ear to his head. "Thor, get up. Thor. Thor!"

"Loki, go get Frigga," Steve orders, and when Loki doesn't answer he says it again. "Loki! Now!"

Loki swallows, hard, ducking to press a kiss to Thor's head quickly. Steve takes a deep breath, trying to make himself  _think._ Thor's still breathing, Steve can see the rise and fall of his chest, so he must just be unconscious.

Steve feels bile rise in his throat when he sees the cut on Thor's head - it doesn't look deep, but it's bleeding. A lot. Steve doesn't remember blood being that red, but then again its not going to be blue - and  _focus, Steve, c'mon._

Quickly, Steve pulls off his hoodie, pressing it to Thor's head, trying to staunch the blood flow. He's not sure what else to do, but he remembers something about talking to people when they're unconscious. Or maybe that's coma patients?

God, he really does't want to think about _that_ , thank you internal monologue.

"C'mon, Thor," Steve says, proud when his voice comes out even, "Loki's going to be so angry if you don't wake up. He'll be grounded, and he'll blame you, and then he'll be in a mood. And you'll miss going to Lucy Carter's party, which I  _know_ you secretly want to go to. Thor, I - "

"Steve!" a voice calls, and Steve startles when he sees Frigga in the door. Steve lets out a little cry, hoodie feeling wet under his hands. "Frigga!"

 

 

Thor has to have twelve stitches, and stay over night for monitoring, but apart from that he's fine. Fine enough to eat three cups of jello at any rate.

"I'm really sorry," Loki says, curled up on Thor's hospital bed. His eyes are red rimmed, and it makes Steve's head hurt. Loki looks so small, tucked into himself, skin paler than usual.

"It's okay, Loki," Steve says, patting his ankle. "It's not your fault."

He feels like he can still smell Thor's blood on his hands, even though he scrubbed and scrubbed them.

"Don't be sad, Loki," Thor frowns, then winces when it hurts his head, "I mean I was unconscious, I had to travel in an ambulance. I have stitches in my - "

Steve makes a furious abort gesture with his hands.

" - heart," Thor finishes brightly, "From the pain it causes me when you cry, dear brother."

Loki stares at him. "Stitches in your  _heart?"_

"It's the best I could come up with!" Thor protests, glaring at Steve when he groans. "Sorry for trying to lessen the burden of Loki's guilt!"

"You're doing a truly terrible job," Loki snorts, but he rubs his eyes with his sleeve and squeezes Thor's hand. "But I appreciate the effort."

"Good," Thor says firmly, slumping back on his pillows, "Because you're my brother, blood or not." Thor suddenly sits up again, and Steve sighs at the look in his eye. "We should do that! We should become blood brothers!"

"How?" Loki asks sceptically, "By ripping the stitches out of Thor's head?"

Steve and Thor both flinch at the same, berating Loki with disgusted expressions, but Loki just cracks up.

 

 

_Age Ten_

"Odin," Steve asks, walking into the kitchen, "What do you do in your job?"

Odin, who's sitting at the table, going through what looks like important documents, pauses. He looks up, face sympathetic. "Are Thor and Loki arguing again?"

"Yes," Steve grumbles, taking a seat at the table. "They're arguing about who's taller, but I don't need to be there because I'm smaller than both of them combined."

It's true; Steve looks like a stick man. Grown ups always talk about 'growth spurts' with a vague air of condescension, but Steve would like a permanent date, please. A count down at least, so he could have something to look forward to. He's the smallest guy in his class, he has no muscle, and with his blond hair and pale skin, people mistake him for an eight year old.

"You're only ten," Odin says, shifting through some papers, "Give it some time, I don't think you need to worry just yet. I do wish your brothers would stop bickering though."

"It's only 'cause they love each other," Steve says begrudgingly, and Odin looks up, face curious. Steve shrugs. "You can say mean things to the people you love," he explains, "Things you couldn't say to other people, because they love you."

"That's very wise of you, Steven," Odin says after a pause, gazing at Steve thoughtfully. "Now, what was this about what I do as a job?"

"Oh yeah," Steve says, perking up, "I wanted to see what you did as a job. You always have so many papers."

"I own a large engineering company," Odin explains, eyes draw back to his work again, "We build houses, cranes, lifts. My workers help complete a variety of projects. It's why the company's called  _Kingdom,_  because we help build entire cities."

Steve nods, though he doesn't really get it. "What about - what about artists?"

Odin frowns. "What about them?"

"Well, is that a good job?" Steve asks, cheeks reddening, "Is that - "

"You don't get paid very well," Odin says absent mindedly, drawn back into his blue prints, "Very few become successful."

"Right," Steve says, trying to ignore the ache in his chest at Odin's words. "Well, thank you. I'm going to go see if the coast is clear."

He slips out the door, and definitely doesn't think about the full sketchpad under his bed.

 

 

 

_Age 14_

"Your brother's a dick head."

Steve jumps, startling as a boy slams his books down onto the desk next to him. It's his first day of high school; naturally Steve would get stuck with the most psychotic lab partner.

"My brother?" he ventures, staring at the boy. The boy stares back, gaze unblinking.

"You're Steve Odinson, right?" the boy asks. Steve nods, and the boy huffs like an angry horse. "Yeah, your brother. Not the one who looks like a blond Viking. The other one. Pokey."

"You mean Loki," Steve corrects, then realises what the boy's said, apprehension curling in his stomach, "Oh God, what did he do?"

"Well," the boy says, with a kind of self righteous anger Steve's only seen on men twice his age, "I accidentally sent  _Pokey_  down the wrong corridor second period. Your psycho brother - despite the fact it was  _an accident -_ stole my clothes from the locker room. I had to walk to the coaches' office in my  _underwear._ I'm pretty sure the coach thinks I'm  _gay,_  and it was some perverted way of me hitting on him. Especially, when I go back to the changing room to find - surprise surprise - my clothes have magically managed to walk back to the changing room."

"Um, maybe it wasn't Loki?" Steve suggests weakly, even though that's doesn't even qualify as a possibility. "Did you see him?"

"He left a note complimenting my boxers," angry boy says flatly, "Then signed it. Twice."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Angry boy tilts his head, eyeing Steve warily. "How are you even brothers? You're like day and night!"

Steve swallows. He looks down at his lap, curling his hands into little fists. Around him the room fills up with students, books being slammed down, girls giggling, bags being thrown to the floor.

"I'm adopted," Steve says finally. He forces himself to look up, lifting his chin. He's been bullied for being adopted before - not much, just little comments in Elementary. He's more liked to messed with because of his size really, but you never know how people are going to react, and kids can be cruel.

Then angry boy smiles, and it's so unexpected the Steve's stomach lurches, a strange heat spreading through his whole body.

"Good," angry boy says, still beaming like the sun, "So I am."

 

 

Turns out angry boy is called Clint, and it's "Less like adoption and more like long term foster care."

"They'll probably get bored of me soon," Clint whispers to Steve. Their desks are dragged close together, Mr Storm showing them a PowerPoint at the front. "This is my third family, they normally don't last. Don't get me wrong, they're all right, but." Clint shrugs, the muscles in his back tight. "Adults get bored."

"They won't get bored of you," Steve says, because he has to. He doesn't know what  _to do_ with Clint Barton, with his messy brown hair, his even browner eyes, big with long lashes, layered with suspicion and judgement. Steve has a strange urge to hug him.

"Hm," Clint says, unconvinced, then changes the subject. "So what about you? What's it like living with the  _Odinsons?"_

"It's not like that," Steve says, flushing, "It's not like I'm using them - "

"I'm  _kidding,"_ Clint drawls, drumming his fingers on the desk, "Jeez, keep your hair on. I just meant how long have you lived with them?"

"Since I was five," Steve says cautiously, holding his past close to his chest like a blanket, "Look, Loki's really funny when you get to know him."

"Yeah, my naked thighs were crying tears," Clint says, rolling his eyes, and Steve snorts, despite himself. Clint looks ridiculously pleased, face softening as he smiles. He pokes Steve's shoulder. "Why are you so skinny? Thor fight you for all the food?"

" _No,"_ Steve says, rolling his eyes, "Amazingly, my family isn't a wolf pack."

Clint wrinkles his nose. "They could be, don't they come from Norway?" His forehead crinkles in concentration. "Aren't Norwegians the drunks?"

"Clint, shut up," Steve hisses, shoving him in the arm, "Norwegians aren't  _drunks._ It's _Dutch_ courage."

"So, you're saying all Danish people are drunks?" Clint says slowly, then cracks up when he's sees the expression on Steve's face. "Jeez, I was kidding! You need to lighten up. Though you do live with Loki, so that would kill anyone's good humour."

"Shut up," Steve says, the admonishment slipping easily from his tongue, "C'mon, Mr Storm is writing, we better take notes."

Clint scrunches his face up. "You're not one of those people who actually take notes, are you?"

"No," Steve says, turning to a new page and underlining the date. "I'm one of those people who actually want to pass their education, go to college and get a good job."

"How boring," Clint says derisively, then tries to steal Steve's paper.

By the end of the lesson, Clint's got his first detention, Steve's got a warning, and they've somehow become best friends.

 

 

"So, are we having lunch with the fraternal nightmare?" Clint drawls, inspecting his nails as they walk down the corridor.

"Don't call him that," Steve reprimands, an automatic response after spending only forty five minutes with Clint. "I promised I'd meet him in the canteen, we don't have all our classes together. Hey, Loki!"

Loki turns at Steve's shout, smiling for what looks like the first time that day. The smile slips when he sees Clint. "Why is  _he_ with you?" Loki hisses as they draw near, "I didn't realise we were allowed to feed the animals."

"Loki, shut up," Steve says firmly, then turns to Clint, "You too."

Clint gapes at him. "I didn't say anything!"

Steve raises an eyebrow. "And you weren't going to?"

Clint opens his mouth - then shuts it again sheepishly. Steve sighs, walking between the two and chatting to Loki about his day so far. Loki is monosyllabic; shoulders hunched. Steve worries at his bottom lip; he loves Loki, but he's grown up with him. To outsiders, Loki's about as approachable as a mother grizzly bear with six cubs and a bad case of rabies. 

"Did you not make any new friends?" Steve asks, part worried and part reproving. Loki stares at him incredulously.

"The only friend you've made is the school outcast," Loki hisses, eyes flashing, "But feel free to lecture me on your outstanding social skills."

"Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine," Steve shoots back, then feels relieved when he sees Thor. "Hey, Thor!"

Thor, naturally, has already enlisted half the school into being his followers. He's sitting on one of the larger tables, surrounded by what looks like cheerleaders and jocks. Steve snickers when he sees the look on Loki's face - evidently Loki's unimpressed with Thor's current social status as school heart throb.

One of the kids on Thor's table looks up, face twisting into a sneer. Steve can feel his face heating as the guy looks him up and down, nudging one of his friend to whisper something.

"Who's the twig?" the boy says, laughing, "I've seen more meat on a dead dog." Clint makes a small noise next to him, and Steve grabs his wrist instinctively. The boy's face brightens with malice. "And look, the carnie got a little  _friend._ What a fucking  _fag."_

The word  _fag_ resonates through Steve's head, causing the breath to catch in his lungs. He's aware Clint is trembling next to him. Thor has gone very quiet, slowly putting down his sandwich.

"And as for the goth," the kid continues, aware he has an audience now and revelling in it, "Who dresses him? His mother?"

Thor kicks back his chair, the feet landing on the floor with a loud clatter. "I don't know," he says slowly, his voice a deep rumble, "I'd have to ask, considering she's my mother also."

The kid seems to choke on air, eyes wide as he looks between them. "What?" Steve says tiredly, "You don't see the family resemblance?"

"I don't think I wish to sit here any more," Thor says demurely, with all the grace of a king. He picks his tray up, winking at Steve, then continues to another table. Steve sits down opposite him, Loki next to Thor, and Clint throwing himself into the seat next to Steve. No one says anything.

"Well," Clint says, breaking the silence, "That was dramatic."

Thor seems unruffled, digging into his lunch. "I don't want to be friends with people who are cruel to my family."

"Yeah, because high school's all about loyalty," Loki says softly, and Steve looks at him.

Loki's face is completely shut off, all his emotions tamped down and locked in. His shoulders are hunched, head down as if he's trying to make himself less visible. Steve kicks him gently under the table. Loki doesn't react, but after a moment a small foot touches his ankle.

"What's a 'carnie'?" Thor asks curiously, ripping open a packet of crisps, "Is it a type of food?"

"Oh, no, it's short for carnival," Clint shrugs, watching on in awe as Thor demolishes his dinner. Steve is less impressed; he's been subject to the demolition for the past ten years.

"Hammer - that's the douchey kid - found out I was fostered, so the running joke is that my parents left me at a freak show." He frowns, cocking his head to one side. "Actually, the new one might be I ran away to join the freak show. I don't know, I'm above all that foolish gossip."

Steve shoots him an amused look, and Clint grins at him, teeth sharp.

"Shame you're not above a bit of nudity," Loki says casually, and Clint scowls.

"Shut up, Pokey."

Loki throws a fork at him.

 

 

 

"I don't want to hold you back!"

Steve speeds up as he rounds the corner, brow furrowing as he hears Loki's raised voice.

He's just said goodbye to Clint, and he's ready to walk home, heading out the entrance.

Loki and Thor are standing off to one side, Thor standing in front of his brother, head down. Steve's throat tightens.

"I'm not going to be one of the 'popular people', Thor," Loki grinds out, eyes flashing, "And I don't want to be. You can't just - separate yourself from people because your kid brother tags along."

Thor's mouth is open in a shocked 'o', blue eyes wide. "I told you, I don't want friends who - "

"Yes, yes, your allegiance is admirable," Loki sighs, as if Thor is a child who doesn't understand why he can't talk to strangers. "It's the natural order of things, you're the golden child, I'm the cliche outcast who is avoided at worst and hated at best."

"How could anyone hate you?" Thor exclaims, voice rising, "It is not like that, brother, there are no pre-destined roles - "

" _Yes, there are_ ," Loki says, and his voice cracks. Steve feels his muscles lock; he should go, comfort Loki, but something stops him, a strong instinct telling him this is their fight. "There always are. You're going to make all these friends and you'll - you'll get over me."

Steve feels his chest squeeze, as if a cold hand is crushing his ribs, bones splintering until he can't breathe. Loki looks so lost, so  _hurt,_ and it knocks Steve off his feet.

"Might as well start now," Loki says, as he sounds as if he's trying so hard to sound casual. "You and Steve, you're  _nice, kind._ I don't want to have to prove myself to people." He lifts his chin. "I'm  _not_ going to."

Steve's trying to understand that, when Thor suddenly moves. He grabs Loki, wrapping his arms around him, crushing him to his chest. Steve watches as Loki stiffens, locking up, then hugs him back, turning his head into Thor's neck.

"I'm not going to get over you," Thor rumbles, and Loki sniffs. "I don't need others, I already have you and Steve. What we have is more important than social approval."

Loki nods, heaving a shaky sigh, and Thor catches his cheek, sliding a thumb over his cheekbone. Steve can see Loki tilt his face into the contact.

"Let's go find our baby brother," Thor says finally, and Steve slips out from behind the wall.

 

 

 

"So," Steve says that night, whilst he and Loki are brushing their teeth in the bathroom.

Loki spits out his toothpaste, wiping his mouth with a flannel. He's in green pyjamas and grey sleeping pants, hair fluffed from where's he's been leaning against his headboard.

"So," Loki says, raising one eyebrow, "You heard us today, didn't you?"

Steve shuffles, spitting out his own toothpaste. "Er, yeah."

"Steve," Loki groans, throwing a towel at him. Steve ducks it and it falls to the floor. 

"You know Thor's not going to ditch us?" Steve says seriously, ducking down to pick the towel up, folding it neatly. "Thor's our  _brother,_ Loki."

"But he's not, is he?" Loki says quietly, and Steve feels as though he's been punched in the stomach.

"Loki, you can't - do you really feel like that?"

Loki runs a hand through his hair, fluffing up the strands at the back even more. He looks at Steve with serious green eyes.

"You know my real parents died in an accident, right?"

Steve nods; he knows bits and pieces about Loki's parents. They died at a ski resort - the ski lift broke or something and they plummeted to their deaths.

(Steve always feels sick when he thinks about it, sick about the idea of falling, falling, falling, falling, straight down.)

"When I was seven," Loki continues, and his hands are trembling, "You remember the week you went camping, with boy scouts?"

Steve nods. Frigga thought it'd be good for him to get out and make some friends. Thor hadn't come because he thought nature was boring (therefore for destroying), whilst Loki had been banned from boy scouts for making other children cry.

"Frigga took us to the park," Loki says, voice deliberately even, "You know the one near us, with the big oak tree? And people used to walk their dogs there?"

"Yes," Steve says, frowning, "Everyone used to walk their dog there. Thor whined for months about wanting a puppy."

"Well, apparently one day someone's dog got loose. It was an Alsation or something, had one of those rope leads? I was sitting on the swings, and this dog came running straight towards me."

Loki takes a deep breath. "Thor tried to grab the dog's lead. He slowed it down, but he cut all his palms up on the rope. Literally, huge gashes on his hands. And he managed to slow the dog down, enough so the owner could grab it."

Loki shakes his head. "I don't remember it at all - blocked it out or just too young, really. But Thor does, and Frigga does, and - " It's eerie seeing Loki, usually so eloquent, struggling to put it into words. "He just didn't care about being hurt, he cared about  _me."_

Loki bites his lip, skin ghostly in the dim light of the bathroom. "Odin will never love me like he loves Thor," Loki says finally, voice steady, "Or you. Even if I was his real son, I don't have the right -  _disposition,_ to gain Odin's approval. And that doesn't matter, because Thor loves me regardless, because  _and_ despite of that, and that's - that's important."

"It's the one thing that doesn't come with a price and strings attached. Everything else - school, my real parents, my  _adopted_ parents - they have prices too high and strings too tight. It's just - it's not fair if all these  _stupid_ teenagers take him away, the only thing I've been able to just  _have_."

"That's the point of family," Steve says clumsily, words heavy in his mouth, "Family doesn't have conditions, or loop holes, or exit clauses. Those people - the people who laughed at us today? They have popular Thor. We? We have stupid Thor, we have angry Thor, we have Thor is a massive a - hole Thor. They don't get that, but we do, okay? Family doesn't come with strings attached, it's just. Just there."

Loki looks at him, really looks at him, green eyes miserable, and Steve throws himself forward, hugging Loki to him. Loki feels skinny, juts of bone and sharp angles, but Steve must feel the same, really.

"Thanks," Loki says finally, breath minty against Steve's cheek, "You going to write a book someday or something?"

Steve laughs, the sound only half broken. "I think I'll stick to drawing."

Loki squeezes his hand, and his eyes don't look so bleak.

 

  

Thor gets in a fight, who blames Loki, who blames Steve, who blames the fact apparently none of them can get into a minute amount of trouble without it being tripled.

It happens the day Thor and Clint have a track competition. It's an over night trip - they stay for the day, then get dropped off at the school the next morning. 

Steve and Clint are hanging out in the bus park, waiting for the coach to arrive. Clint has managed to worm himself into Steve's life with his usual tact and grace, and doesn't seem to be leaving any time soon.

"Do my laces up, slave."

"I'm not your slave, Barton," Steve says crossly, smacking Clint's hand away. "Stop calling me that."

"All of the great runners had slaves," Clint says, crossing his arms, "What if your hands have the magic touch, huh? And then I loose because you didn't do my laces up?"

"Then that would be cheating," Steve says primly, "Because I would be giving you an advantage."

"Fine, I'll do my own damn laces," Clint mutters, leaning over to tie them. He's wearing the standard SHIELD high uniform, and as he leans over his shirt rides up, revealing a strip of tanned skin. Steve feels a shiver go down his spine, and he forces himself to look away, taking a sip of Clint's water.

"I'm going to try out for the archery team next year," Clint brags, straightening his purple shirt. "Hey, you should try out for something. Then we can go on the coach together."

"Like what?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow, "I have a note to get out of PE, Clint. I have an  _inhaler."_

"So?" Clint drawls, raising an eyebrow right back, "You can do gymnastics or something. Gymnasts are always really small, you'll fit right now."

"Hey, I'm getting bigger," Steve protests, because it's actually true. His hands and feet are definitely getting bigger, and he's a little taller. Unfortunately, the rest of his body seems to have not got the memo, but Steve is still holding out hope.

"Sure," Clint says, not even bothering to sound sincere, "Hey, can you pin my track number on my back?"

Steve nods, taking the number and the pin carefully. Clint scoots round so he's sitting in front of Steve, and Steve just - just didn't realise the position they were in. Clint's almost between Steve's legs, the strong muscles of his back moving under his shirt. Steve feels him mouth go dry, hands suddenly clammy. He leans forward, tugging on Clint's shirt gingerly.

Clint smells nice, clean and spicy, with a hint of the spray he uses. His skin is warm under his hands, the muscles strong, and Steve is captivated, transfixed by the fact he could run his hands all over Clint, close enough he could kiss the soft nape of his neck if he wanted.

"Any time, sunshine," Clint says suddenly, and Steve stabs himself with the pin.

Steve mentally swears at himself as he waves Clint off, sucking his finger in his mouth to stop the blood. He brushes his knees off, heading towards the lunch hall. Thor is going to the track competition too, so Steve and Loki are going to check out some artist books in the school library.

"Hello, Stevie," Justin Hammer says as he steps round there corner, and really? Really? As if this could be any more cliche.

"Do you read James Bond?" Steve asks wearily, watching warily as two other larger guys flank Hammer, "Have a fluffy white cat somewhere?"

They don't have a cat, but they do have fists. They have shoes, too, and steel grips. There's words as well  _runtfuckupretardfag._

Steve has bruises.

It's not what you'd call a fair trade.

 

 

"What the ever loving  _fuck?"_

"Hello, Loki," Steve says, without removing the ice pack from his eye.

"Mr Odinson," Nurse Hill says curtly, "Please refrain from using profanities in here, or I will forbid you from seeing your brother."

"You can try," Loki spits, bristling like a cat. The sight amuses Steve; Loki half the size, but double the arrogance, facing off against not only a teacher, but someone who has easy access to needles in her first aid kit.

"I can have you suspended," Hill threatens, but her expression softens when Steve sends her a pleading look. "Fine, five minutes."

"What happened?" Loki demands the moment she's gone, taking the flannel from Steve. He dabs at the bruise on Steve's cheek, the droplets of water frigid. "It was Hammer and that lot, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Steve says simply, because there's no point in lying, not to Loki. "We can't tell Thor, he'll kill them."

"Yes, he will," Loki says grimly, "That's probably why they did it when he was on the trip."

"Yeah, I'd figured as much," Steve snaps, pain making him antsy, then shakes his head, "Sorry. Didn't mean that."

Loki hops onto the bed, resting his head against the wall. "Did you hit them back?"

"Oh yeah, I was a real contender," Steve says, and then his lip starts bleeding again. Loki looks at him, corner of his lips turning up, and Steve kicks him.

"Don't you dare make me laugh, I think one of my ribs might come loose."

 

 

Thor does find out, and he doesn't kill them but there is definitely GBH undertones, which incidentally ends with them all sat outside Principal Fury's office.

The receptionist had looked unimpressed when they all slumped into the Principal's waiting room, three Odinsons, three sets of bruises. Steve had tried not to laugh when her eyes widened when she read their second names - Odinsons aren't meant to get into fights in the canteen.

There's only one other boy in there. He has sunglasses on, and a red hoodie, head phones plugged in and texting rapidly, thumbs flying over the keys. Steve thought he might have been looking at them, but the glasses hide the boy's eyes.

Loki had taken one look at three orange chairs, then at them, and said in a flat tone: "We look like trailer trash."

(Steve's pretty sure the boy in the corner had said "Ain't that the truth," but when he looks over, the boy is still typing.)

"Could you not exercise a little more control?" Loki says moodily, tucking his legs under his chair. His arms are crossed, green hood pulled up.

"Could you look any more like a teenage delinquent?" Steve snaps back, "Put your hood down!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, old man," Loki sneers, "Put your zimmer frame away."

"They beat up Steve," Thor says fiercely, in retaliation to Loki's comment, scowling. He has a bloody nose, and his fist is covered in cuts. "I wasn't going to let him get away with it."

"So, you punched him," Loki snipes, "That was a brilliant tactic, round of applause for Thor the tactful."

Thor glares at him. "You joined in, brother, so don't act as if you're the model of restraint!"

"Because you were getting your ass handed to you," Loki snaps, and Steve puts a hand on his leg. Loki shakes it off, crossing his arms and looking in the other direction.

Steve knows why he's scared. Odin isn't a bad parent, Steve will forever be grateful to him, but he's strict. Steve never misbehaved as a child, but Thor did, and Steve remembers Odin shouting at him. Loki, too. Once, Loki ate an entire chocolate cake, then blamed it on the maid. Odin grounded him for a whole week, and he wasn't allowed to have any of the books he had been given for his birthday.

If Odin finds out they got in a fight -  _all_ of them - they are going to be in big, big trouble.

"Odinson?"

Steve sighs, standing up. Loki stays seated, so Steve grabs him, yanking him up. They trail into Fury's office like lemmings, Thor leading them like a defiant leader.

"Have fun," headphone boy sing songs as they enter, and Steve double takes. The boy doesn't say anything else, and Loki yanks his wrist, so Steve has no choice but to stumble into the office.

Principal Fury only has one eye. Loki says it's because he failed a student, and in a fearful act of vengeance, said student stabbed his eye out with a spork from the canteen.

Steve has seen the sporks from the canteens, and quite frankly, you wouldn't be able to spear an eyeball with one.

"Sit, down," Fury orders, leaning forward, hands on his desk. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting all three of you."

"Pleasure's all ours," Loki mutters, then hisses when Thor kicks him.

"So, you're all Odinsons," Fury continues, eyeing them - ha, eye - suspiciously, as if this some elaborate prank.

"I'm adopted," Loki and Steve say at the same time, then grin at each other. Loki bares his teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Thor's the only real Odinson."

Steve hears the emphasis put on  _real,_ and he bites his lip. Thor doesn't seem to notice anything odd; his eyes are fixed forward, trained on Fury.

"Well, that sure is a beautiful tale," Fury growls, leaning back into his chair, "I'm glad the fraternity extends to violence."

"It wasn't our fault!" Thor bursts out, wriggling in his chair like a puppy, "They attacked Steve when he was alone - "

"Thor," Steve hisses, grabbing his wrist. The last thing they need is to look like snitches - it won't get them any favours with Fury  _or_ the rest of the student body. Thor stops, expression still angry.

"We were provoked," Steve says, sitting up in his seat. He keeps his voice even. "But we understand violence is an unacceptable response. My brothers and I are very apologetic, and we will aim to improve our actions."

Loki snorts at that, but miraculously keeps silent. Steve holds his breath, praying Thor will keep his mouth shut. The last thing they need is for them to get in even more trouble, it's bad enough as it is.

"Fine," Fury says finally, "I'm glad you're so...apologetic." He says the word apologetic as if it's the word 'ax murderer.' "I'll let you off with a warning this time, but be assured. Any more trouble and I will have you in detention for the rest of the year." 

He settles back into his chair, gesturing to the door. "Tell teenage dirt bag out there he can now grace me with his presence."

"Yes, Sir," Steve says quickly, then drags Thor and Loki out as quickly as possible.

"What the hell was that?" Thor explodes once they get out, face red with anger. "We should have stated our cause, fought for out virtues - "

"Odin's going to kill us," Loki says flatly, already heading for the door, "What Steve did was smart. Apologise, look cute, get out quick. No one needs a speech on morals."

Thor and Loki start bickering, so Steve sighs, trying to calm his breathing. Honestly, Fury scares the beejeesus out of him. He remembers what Fury said, and on a hunch pads over to the room's only other occupant.

"Um, excuse me?" Steve asks cautiously, and the boy slowly lifts his sunglasses, "Are you - er, teenage dirt bag?"

"Only if you buy me a drink first," the boy grins, and Steve feels himself blush, "Nah, that's just what good ol' Nick calls me. It's Tony, Tony Stark. You're one of the Norwegian trio, aren't you?"

"I'm Steve," Steve says, smiling slightly. "And I'm not from Norway. Why does Fury want you?"

"I exploded something in Chemistry," Tony shrugs, "Well, less like something and more like an entire wing, but."

There's a shout of: "STARK!" from the principal's office, and Tony sighs, dusting off his jeans. "See you around, butter scotch."

"Bye," Steve says, shaking his head, then turns to see Odin standing there.

If you looked up the definition of 'pissed off parent' in the dictionary, someone would have ripped the page out and left a snap chat of Odin in its place.

"To the car, boys," Odin says, and Steve can physically see Loki and Thor wince. The walk to the car is awkward, no one saying anything. There's a mental eye war about who's get in the front with Odin, which Thor looses due to an unanimous mental vote.

Loki slides in the back with Steve, the car silent as they drive through the streets. It rained last night, and when Steve looks at Loki, he sees Loki has written  _we're so fucked_ in the condensation. Great.

Frigga is home when they get there, and Steve feels a pang of guilt at her concerned face, her eyes huge when she sees the sight of them. They all shuffle into the living room, Odin drawing himself up to his full height. "Can you imagine how angry I was when I got a phone call from the school, telling me that - not only one - but  _all three of my children_  had been in a fight."

Steve looks down at the carpet, biting his cheek. He can feel Thor fidgeting restlessly next to him, but thankfully keeps his mouth shut. Meanwhile, beside him Loki is seething. Steve can practically see it rolling off him.

"We  _never_ get into physical altercations," Odin booms, "You bring shame on this family, on yourselves, and us as your carers. If you choose to use such violent means, you will find it only creates further issues. Steve - " Steve jumps, face red - "I understand you were a victim of this incident. Therefore, you will not be punished. However, although your brother's loyalty is admirable, it is not the way to deal with such things."

"They were trying to protect me," Steve breaks in, trying to keep his voice even, "These guys beat me up, and Thor found out and had a fight with them in the canteen. Which is, um, quite bad." He shoots Thor an apologetic look, but Thor just gives him a wry smile. "But Loki and I joined in the fight in the canteen, too. To protect Thor."

Odin pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine. You are all grounded for a month. No parties, no trips to the library, no trips to the museum - "

"What about the other boys?" Loki spits, hands balled into fists, "You're just going to let them get away with it?"

"Silence, Loki," Odin barks, and Loki quivers with anger. Steve knows he hates it when people order him about like that. "I will be talking to the governing board in the morning. Thor, I am very ashamed of your actions, as you were the one to instigate the brawl. If this happens again, I will take away your car."

Thor starts at that, but wisely doesn't say anything. Steve glances over to see Loki watching Thor; he's standing just out of Thor's personal space, so if he leant in an inch they'd be brushing shoulders.

Odin sighs, and the anger leaves his face, replaced by worry and regret. "Okay, to your room. Steve, one of your friends is here to see you. You have fifteen minutes."

Clint is waiting in the hall, expression anxious, cuts on his knuckles. Steve eyes them warily. "Why does everyone keep getting into fights for me?"

"Because you're clearly a damsel in distress," Clint replies, smirk at the corner of his mouth, "Who says these are from a fight, anyway? I could have just played a really extreme game of knuckles."

Steve laughs, feeling some of the tension he's been holding slip away. "Right."

"Frigga loves me by the way," Clint says casually, leaning against the wall. He has his track bag slung over his shoulder, the strap wrinkling his shirt collar. "I told her I was  _really worried_ for you, and how you have trouble making friends."

Steve stares at him. "You can't be serious." When Clint nods, Steve groans. "You realise she's going to have some crippling self esteem talk with me now? There'll be pamphlets. There will be meetings with the guidance counsellor."

"The guidance counsellor is  _hot,"_ Clint whistles, "I've done you a favour, Steve."

"Yeah, well I'm very much obliged," Steve says, rolling his eyes. "How did track go? I haven't talked to you since yesterday."

Clint shrugs. "Pretty good. My legs kill, though. Thor was awesome."

"You better go," Steve says apologetically, "Odin's pretty annoyed, I don't want you to get in trouble."

"Never though you were the love 'em and leave 'em type," Clint grins, bumping his shoulder as he heads out. "Night, Steve. Put some ice on that eye."

"Already have," Steve calls back, and shakes his head when he hears Clint charming Frigga on the way out.

He heads up to his room, running a thumb over his lip as he goes. It's healing, but it's still sore.

"Your boyfriend said goodnight?" Thor smirks at him when he enters their room. Steve flips him off, shaking his head.

"I was just showing Loki my sparring moves," Thor says, aiming a mock punch at Loki. He makes as though he's going to punch him, but Loki doesn't even flinch.

"Impressive," Loki drawls, then punches Thor, hard in the shoulder. Thor stumbles, but Loki's already gone, dancing into the bath on light feet. Thor watches him go with a sour expression on his face.

"Loki's an idiot," he grumbles, and Steve cracks up, can't help it. He just looks so  _forlorn,_ and Steve laughs and laughs until his ribs hurt. Thor stares at him until he stops, then says "Your lip is bleeding, again," which only sets Steve off again.

 

 _Age 17_  

 

Odin's ecstatic when Steve joins the football team. It's weird, because Odin isn't around as much, lately. Frigga says he has important work to do, work in New York or Washington, taking him to different states. Frigga's not always here, too. Steve's not even sure when it happened, only that one day he realises that this is the second week of Odin's business trip, and if he eats pop tarts for dinner one more time he's going to be sick.

Steve minds a lot less than he should. Maybe there's no more trips to Washington, but he has his brothers, and Clint, and school to get on with. Loki just seems to get more ambivalent the longer it goes on, whilst Thor just finds more friends to spend time with, girls with short skirts and football players.

Odin comes home from his trip on a Thursday, and the moment he finds out Steve made the team, he gathers him into a big hug. Odin hasn't hugged since he was about ten, so Steve has to force himself to hug him back. He feels a little uncomfortable with all the attention, to be honest. 

"You must be so ecstatic, Steve," Frigga tells him, smiling, "You've really shot up."

"I'm very proud of you, Steven," Odin says, cutting up his steak. He pounds his fork on the table. "This will look very good when applying to colleges. It shows strength, team work."

"Yes, I can see how essential it is to be a unit when throwing a pig's skin about," Loki says, taking a sip from his drink, "Pass the salad, Thor."

"I'm on the team, too, Father," Thor says, throwing the salad at Loki. "We tried out together."

"Good," Odin says approvingly, waving his fork in the air. "Loki, how are your studies?"

Loki jumps slightly at the question, and Steve nudges him gently with his foot under the table. "They're fine. I'm top of my class in everything."

"Well done," Odin compliments, and Steve sees an expression of vague disbelief cross Loki's face, "Will you be trying out for any teams?"

Loki's look is so sarcastic, Steve has to bite his cheek to stop himself laughing. "I'm not exactly a team player."

"You should be," Odin says, taking a sip of his drink, "It's a good way to prove yourself, to show your abilities. Thor and Steven may even be able to get a football scholarship."

"Actually," Steve says casually, cutting up his beans, "I thinking about maybe doing an art degree."

Loki sends him a look that says  _you are so fucking dead._

"Art will get you nowhere," Odin says firmly, spooning salad onto his plate, "It is a hobby, not a career."

"I'm not sure Yale's art programme would agree with you," Steve says, then instantly regrets it. Thor sinks into his chair; Loki looks positively gleeful.

"Painting pictures doesn't prove anything," Odin continues, putting his fork down, "Leading a business, running a company, that does. You need skills to do that, to work hard."

"Art isn't about that," Steve protests, heat flaring in his cheeks, "Art can be used for loads of things, teaching, curating, drama - "

"None of those are accoladed subjects," Odin argues, "Art is just a fancy waste of time. It has no real substance. It's for failures. And queers."

" _Odin,"_ Frigga says sharply, and Loki drops his cutlery to the table with a clatter. Even Thor is shocked, fork paused halfway to his mouth. 

"I think I'm done," Steve says quietly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Thank you for a lovely meal, Frigga." He pushes his chair back, putting his plate in the sink with a clatter.

He climbs up to his room, sitting on his bed. He pulls his knees up to his chest, resting his head on them. The word  _queer_  keeps playing on loop in his mind, the contempt on Odin's face clear in his mind's eye. There's nothing wrong with being gay, Steve knows that, knows it inherently. He doesn't think there's anything wrong with being anything - he's always believed you should just be who you are, love who you love.

It hurts, hurts like a knife wound, having someone talk to him like that. He knows Odin doesn't mean it, Odin is old, and traditional, but - 

\- but Steve's not sure how much of an excuse that can be.

The door creaks and Loki slips in, pale face pensive as he looks at Steve. "Well, that was unexpected. Since when were you such a firecracker?"

Steve doesn't have the energy to flip him off. "It's not fair," he says finally, voice cracking, "He shouldn't have said that."

Loki settles next to him, mimicking Steve's pose. "Is this about the art? Because there's nothing wrong with being an artist."

"Right," Steve says in a dull tone, but Loki squeezes his arm, digging his nails in. "No," Loki says firmly, looking at Steve strangely, "There's  _nothing wrong_ with being an  _artist._ You should colour away to your heart's content. You don't have to pick a favourite colour. Art is objective."

Steve feels something warm lodge in his chest, a tentative smile curving in his face. "Really? And I guess I can use any paper I want?"

"Well," Loki says thoughtfully, "They do say you should use a rubber."

Odin doesn't say anything to Steve the next morning, heading to work early. Thor doesn't say anything either, but when Steve opens his lunch box later, he finds a six pack of strawberry pop tarts.

 

 

  

 

"Why's Hammer shouting 'Tommy' at people?" Loki asks as he sits down one lunch time. He slaps Thor's hand when he reaches for his crackers. "Get your _own,_ Thor. Oh, wait. You already have. You're just an insatiable pig."

"He's shouting 'Commie' not Tommy," Clint says, sliding in next to Steve. "He's talking to the new girl. Natasha."

"What new girl?" Steve asks, taking a bite of his apple. "Is she in our year?"

"Yeah, she's over there." Clint waves his fork in the direction of the canteen line. A bit of chicken lands on Loki's salad. Steve makes a pointed note not to get involved; Loki and Clint have been having a guerilla food fight for months now, and the last time anyone got involved a lemon was decapitated.

"She's from Russia, or like, lived there for a bit," Clint explains, "The Russians were Communists for a bit, remember?"

Loki gives him a look that could wither the sun. "Yes, I might recall something along those lines."

Clint sticks his middle finger up him and turns to Steve; Loki begins to swap Clint's sugar packets with salt ones. "That's why they're calling her Commie."

Steve frowns. "Is that not about sixty years out of date?"

"It's Hammer," Clint shrugs, "He probably thinks it makes him look cool."

"Does she have any friends?" Steve asks anxiously, looking on as the girl chooses her meal. 

Loki puts down his salad. "No, Steve. Stop."

Steve blinks. "What?"

"Got to agree with Smoky over there," Clint nods, talking through a mouthful of chicken, "Control your inner mama bear."

Steve really doesn't know why he's friends with Clint sometimes. "Okay, so try that in English."

Clint swallows his huge mouthful of chicken. "You have a habit of adopting wayward losers. I mean you adopted Loki, and he was  _already adopted._ "

"I still don't get it."

Loki sighs and pats his hand. "Your first instinct is to go over there and ask her to sit with us, and then she'll imprint on you like a little red head duckling, and where will we be?"

Steve scowls at him. "Um, filled with warm fuzzies because we were a nice person for once? I'm going to talk to her."

He pushes up from his seat, weaving his way through the crowd. He stops when he gets to the new girl, suddenly unsure. "Um, hey?"

The new girl - Natasha - turns to look at him. She's very, very pretty, with long red hair, falling in curls around her shoulders, with pouty lips and green green eyes. "Do you want something?"

She says it in a way that makes Steve think that if you do want something, she'll be sending it to you in a body bag. "Um, I'm Steve. Do you want to come sit with us?"

Natasha tilts her head to one side, like a cat, only a really scary one. "Define 'us'."

"Um, okay. Well, my two brothers, Loki and Thor. Thor's really loud. He'll probably hit on you. And look down your top, but he doesn't mean it, he's just a bit...whatever. And Loki might stab you with a fork - or just his nails, he's got problems. Then there's Clint, he's my best friend, he's really nice. He'll probably hit on you as well, but he's really funny. And sometimes Stark joins us, but mostly he's just surgically attached to his technology."

Steve takes a look at Natasha's face, and winces. "That probably wasn't the greatest review."

Natasha smiles.

 

 

 

"You realise you have a  _girl_ on your team?" Clint asks Steve after football practise. Steve has just had a shower, his muscles aching in a good way, feeling loose and pleasant.

"Sif," Steve supplies, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder, "Yeah, Coach Grimm's not really one for gender stereotypes. He just wants us to win, and Sif's better than half the team anyway."

"She's terrifying," Clint says flatly, and Steve laughs, shaking his head. "No, seriously. The girl looks like she could break me in half, and we're friends with  _Natasha._ We should be immune to horrifying females by now."

"Should be," Steve says, "Never going to happen. Have you got your Chemistry books?"

"In my bag," Clint says, then panics the entire way to his house until he finds them.

Clint pauses before they get to his foster home; it's not the first time Steve's been over, but he hasn't been over for long, or for dinner, which is the plan for today. Clint scuffs the doorstep, biting his lip. Steve feels his heart melt at Clint's anxious expression, the way his face is tight with self consciousness.

"It's okay," Steve says softly, and Clint looks at him, nodding once then straightening his shoulders, unlocking the door. Clint's foster mom is called Annie, and she greets them at the door, asking them how school is, telling Steve she hopes he likes apple pie. 

"Of course he likes apple pie," Clint says gruffly, "He's the All-American boy." He smiles at Annie, albeit a little awkwardly, but Annie just smiles back.

She has blond hair streaked with grey, and Steve feels the familiar pang of regret he always feels when he sees someone else's mother. Annie actions are cautious around Clint, never making sudden movements or attempting to stroke his hair. But Steve can see the fondness clearly outlined in her eyes, the affection guiding her movements. Steve likes her.

"I'll let you boys get on," she says softly, then turns back to her cooking. Clint calls a soft thanks, then heads up the stairs.

Clint's room is strange - for Steve, everything should be tripled. Three chest of drawers, three beds, three piles of clothes because none of them actually manage to clean up after themselves. Until Frigga tells them off, then Steve and Loki just blame Thor.

"I like the simplicity of your room," Steve says, settling down on Clint's bed. There are posters on the wall, bands, posters of places, one of famous track stars.

Clint snorts. "Okay, weirdo." He shoves a pile of his books off the bed, rooting down the side of it for the TV remote. "Do you want to watch  _Supernatural_ season one or two?"

"Season one," Steve decides, and Clint nods, padding over to the TV to put the DVD in.

"Shove over," Clint says, because Steve's actually big enough to take over some of the bed now. "I want to watch the one where the scarecrow comes alive."

While Sam Winchester talks to nefarious hitch hikers on the screen, Clint nudges Steve with his shoulder. "You okay? You're really quiet."

Steve looks down at his lap. He doesn't want to admit that it  _may, possibly_ have something to do with how close Clint is sitting, the warmth of his arms brushing up against Steve's. The fact Steve is incredibly glad he had a shower after practise, because he actually terrified he smells and is going to start sweating.

"Odin's been acting a bit weird lately," he says instead, because it's true after all, "When's he's here."

"Has he mentioned the big art-apalooza?" Clint asks, eyes intent. Steve looks away - he hadn't given all the details when telling Clint about that night.

"No," Steve says, shaking his head, "He keeps snapping at Loki, too."

"Miracle," Clint mutters, then yelps when Steve pinches him. "Okay! No need to maim me. What has the little wretch done now?"

Steve shuffles down on the bed, getting more comfortable. "I think he's feeling a bit left out since I joined the football team. Because me and Thor spend so much time together training, and Loki's - "

"Different?" Clint supplies helpfully, and Steve smiles at him.

"That was a more restrained verb than I was expecting."

"I do try."

It's true though; Thor and Steve look more like brothers than ever. Blond hair, blue eyes, built the same because they're both on the team together. Loki, with his slight build and pale skin, doesn't really look like any of them. Steve keeps trying to include Loki, with drawing or reading, but it's like the closer he tries to get to him, the further he pulls away.

"Hey, it'll be okay," Clint says, tugging at Steve's sleeve, "Loki's probably just sulking, you know what he's like."

Steve sighs. "I guess so. But Odin loves it, you know? Having, like, two golden children on the football team and Loki's so - "

"Different?" Clint supplies again, and they both laugh. Clint smiles at him, eyes fond. "Can't save everyone, Stevie. Give them some time."

I'm not sure if there's enough time, Steve wants to say, but Clint rests his head on Steve's shoulder and that's a more pressing issue right now.

 

 

The house is quiet when Steve lets himself back in from Clint's. He creeps up the stairs, toeing off his shoes as he goes. Thor is asleep when he gets in, but Loki is still awake. He's sitting on his bed, legs crossed, the light from his laptop creating an eerie glow on his face.

Steve pulls off his shirt, slipping on his pyjamas. Loki looks up, smirking at him. "How's Barton?"

"Missing you," Steve retorts, "Say he counts the days until you meet again. How was dinner?"

Loki snorts, shutting the laptop lid. "Delightful as ever. Odin asked me I've got a girlfriend yet, whether I'm going to join a sports team. The usual. If I'm ever going to transform into Thor."

"How's that going?" Steve says, and Loki sticks his tongue out of him. 

"I haven't mastered my powers of transfiguration yet," Loki says snidely, and Steve laughs, flicking off the light. He climbs into bed, pulling the covers up. 

"We're going out on Friday by the way," Loki says into the darkness, "Odin's company has won some pretentious sounding accolade for making a lot of money, and we all have to go."

"Okay," Steve says sleepily, "Night."

He waits a long time before Loki says it back. 

 

 

"Definitely a house in the Caribbean."

"You think? I was go for the European slant, chalet in France."

"Ah, that is very in this year."

"Oh - Rolex."

"Really? I was think Cartier."

"No, you can tell by the standard of the gold plating."

"Boys," Frigga says, in a tone that could cut steel, "Please refrain from commenting on the other guests."

Steve and Loki look appropriately apologetic. Every time they come to one of these events, he and Loki have a scoring system for how pretentious/filthy rich the other party goers are. You get points from the business you run, the amount of gold you have on you, and whether you snub the help or not. Which they all do.

Steve and Loki exchange bored glances, dressed smartly in black suits and ties. Odin's company  is winning some kind of award, exceptional service or something. Which is great for Odin and Frigga, who have left to go mingle, but they're stuck eating disgusting canapes and laughing at the other people.

"Thor, your tie is undone," Loki sighs. Thor frowns, about to protest, but his red tie  _is_ undone, the knot loose. Loki rolls his eyes. "Ugh, come here you oaf."

Loki's hand are slender and delicate, focused as they undo Thor's tie. Thor is taller than Loki, blond hair falling in his face as he looks down. The size difference is startling, Loki's hands small against the expanse of Thor's chest, resting there for a moment before Loki steps back. 

"Thanks," Thor says quietly, blue eyes unreadable, and Loki steps back, face impassive. Loki opens his mouth as if to speak, but then Thor's head snaps up. "Is that Sif?"

Steve turns to see  it  _is_ Sif, looking uncomfortable in a stunning silver gown, her long back hair held back by a silver band. "Oh yeah, I think her father owns a car company? I think it's called  _Chariots?_ That's why she plays on the football team, she's sick of her home life. Her parents want her to be a demure and gentle daughter, to promote a good image."

"Sounds familiar," Loki mutters, "I - Thor, where are you going?"

Thor gives them a little wave, crowd parting before him as he makes his way over to Sif. Loki looks as though he's swallowed a lemon. "He can't honestly be going to see  _her,_ can he?"

"Well, she is his friend," Steve says, watching as Thor greets Sif with a kiss on the cheek. "He's allowed to go see her."

"Jealous, Odinson?" a voice behind them says, and Steve turns to see Tony standing there. "Though I suppose green is your preferred colour."

Loki glares at him. "And alcohol is very much yours, Stark. I'm surprised you're not inebriated yet, though maybe you've just missed the champagne fountain. I'd be happy to provide directions."

"Hi, Tony," Steve says loudly, "I didn't think you'd be here."

Tony shrugs, stepping closer to him. He's dressed in a smart blue suit, the darkness of the blue making his brown hair look even darker. He looks bored, but Steve can see the cracks beneath it, the resignation and frustration. "Daddy owns a big company, too. Stark Industries is winning some prizes tonight. Where's the ken doll?"

"Thor? He's gone to go talk to Sif," Steve says, gesturing, "The scary one in the sharp heels."

Tony eyes her appreciatively. "Do you think she'd go for me?"

Loki snorts. "I think she's likely to go for your throat."

Tony doesn't look particularly bothered. "Ah, well. She looks pretty taken with Thor at any rate. I'm not competing with someone double my size."

"What?" Loki says sharply, peering over his shoulder at Thor. "Sif isn't attracted to Thor like that."

"You sure?" Tony says, raising an eyebrow, "Because I pretty certain the sexual tension is killing  _me,_ and I'm not even over there." Tony juts his lip out, pouting. "This is so boring. Bruce should have come."

"Bruce Banner?" Steve asks, frowning, "I think he's in my science class."

"Isn't he the one with anger management issues?" Loki says in a bored voice, eyes fixed on Thor, "Didn't he go insane last year? Some pupil mocked him and he tried to smash their head in with a chair."

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. "Have I ever told you how much I adore you sense of tact?" 

Loki hip-checks him. "Continuously."

"Yeah, that's Bruce," Tony says, tone defensive, "That kid was an ass hole anyway, he was saying shit about Bruce's family. Though if Sif doesn't take her hand off Thor's arm, it looks like dear Loki will be the one taking anger management."

For some reason Loki looks really pissed off by this, his entire face darkening. He grabs a flute of champagne, downs it, then storms off. "Loki!" Steve calls, but Loki doesn't turn around, heading for the exit.

"Is it something I said?" Tony says innocently, "I should have taken notes. Anyway, you and Barton - "

"Anthony?" a voice says, and Tony flinches, the action as instinctive and built in as breathing. Steve reaches for him, startled, when a hand lands on Tony's shoulder. "Anthony, I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Fantastic," Tony mutters, "Steve, this is my father, Howard. Howard, this is Steve Odinson."

"Don't call me Howard," Howard chides, then freezes when he sees Steve. Steve squirms, uncomfortable with the pure shock on Howard's face. He can see the similarity between the two, the same brown eyes, dark hair, strong jaw. "You're Odin's son?"

"Yes," Steve replies slowly, unsure what's caused such a reaction. 

Howard eyes him, expression deliberately bland. "I worked with Odin a long time ago. I don't suppose he ever mentions that, does he?"

"No," Steve says slowly, "He's never talked about you at all."

"Of course he hasn't," Howard murmurs, and Steve's really confused. Tony's doesn't look any more enlightened, blinking up at his father. "Well, it was nice to meet you Steve, but I'm afraid we have to leave you now."

"Bye," Steve says slowly, watching them go. Tony pulls a face at him, mouthing a goodbye. Steve sighs, bewildered, and eats another canape.

 

 

 

"It was  _really_  weird, okay," Steve says to Clint the next day. Clint is supposed to be helping Steve sort through his old things, but he's lying on Steve's bed instead. He keeps throwing crisps in the air then catching them in his mouth. "If you get crumbs on my sheets, I  _will_ make you clean it up."

"Maybe Daddy Stark thought you were a spy for his company," Clint suggests, kicking his legs out so he's spread out, "You know, trying to steal ideas so Odin can use them."

"Barton, that only happens in discount thriller novels," Loki says from his own bed, book propped open on his knees, "Thor, that poster's wonky."

"No, it's not," Thor pouts, even though it's about as straight as Steve's feelings about Clint, lean and lazy on  _his_ bed. Feelings Steve is studiously ignoring, because he doesn't need any more drama. 

"It is," Loki says automatically, then actually sees what poster it is. "What poster even is that?"

Thor shows him his  _One Direction_ poster, and Loki laughs for full five minutes, until Clint says: "You have the same hipster boots as Harry Styles, Loki," and then Loki shuts up real quick.

"Now we've established Loki is secretly a member of a boy band," Steve says loudly, dodging the pillow Loki throws at him, "Can we please talk about how odd last night was?"

"He was probably just worried about Odin seeing him with you," Clint says, and Steve frowns at him. "What? Wait, did you not hear about that?"

"Hear about what?" Steve says immediately, putting down a t-shirt he'd been inspecting. "What is it?"

Clint sits up, blinking long lashes. "Did you not hear about the whole Obadiah Stane thing? I suppose it was ages ago."

"I want to hear about this," Thor decides, climbing over everyone's things and sitting down on Steve's bed, "Go on, Clint."

Clint smirks, grinning as Steve also sits next to Thor. "Okey dokey, story time, Odinsons. Are you all sitting comfortably? C'mon, Loki, join the family circle."

"I'd rather slam my tongue in a door," Loki says without looking up, and Steve snorts.

"One moment, Clint," Thor says briskly, then slides off the bed, and  _picks_ Loki up. Clint bursts into laughter, cackling as Loki punches Thor in the back with no avail. Thor thunks down onto the bed, a squirming Loki in his lap.

"Get off, Thor," Loki hisses, trying to get away, "For fucks sake, I'll listen to Barton's little fairy tale." He scrambles over Thor's lap, moving next to Steve. His eyes are angry, but his cheeks are flushed.

"So, like, ages ago," Clint begins, and Steve smiles at him, ducking his head to hide his amusement, "This guy called Obadiah used to own part of Stark Industries. Like, he would sell parts to other companies, materials and things. But what no one knew, was that the stuff Obadiah was selling was substandard, and all the parts and material was really faulty."

"That's so dangerous," Steve says, horrified, "Stark Industries sell parts to car companies, to plane companies. Did no one really know?"

Clint's face takes on a disgusted look. "Probably. Stane was making a fortune, 'cause the parts were worth nothing, but people were buying them for loads. Eventually, this company found out. They'd brought parts for building or something, and it'd ended in these people dying."

"Dying?" Thor repeats, shocked, and Steve knows how he feels. "They died?"

"Yep," Clint nods, face grim. "Obadiah went to jail. They weren't allowed to release the name of the company who had the accident, because obviously it'd look really bad on them, even though it wasn't their fault. It was all kept really hush hush. I only know so much because one of my foster parents used to work for Stark, and they heard all about it. I mean, it's not like it's hidden, but it was years ago."

"Wow," Steve says, reeling slightly, "Do you think that's why Stark didn't want to talk to me? Because he knew it would look bad for Odin's company for me to be talking to a rival company? Especially because of that."

"Yep," Clint nods, "That's exactly what I think."

"Well, that was a lovely gruesome interlude," Loki says sarcastically, swinging his legs off the bed, "But I'm going back to my bed now."

Thor copies his action, sliding off Steve's bed and going back to sorting through his discarded clothes. Steve shuffles to sit next to Clint, nudging him with his hip so they both fit.

"You're welcome," Clint says, stretching out again, "Thor, are you chucking that shirt out? I'll have it."

"It won't fit you," Thor says, shaking his head, "You're tiny compared to me."

"Hey, I'm not tiny!" Clint protests, scowling at Thor. "It not my fault. You're probably on some Norwegian steroid or something."

"He must be to keep up with Sif," Loki says loudly, and the entire mood changes. Thor's head snaps up, eyes narrowing at he looks at Loki. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying you looked awfully intimate last night," Loki says casually, but Steve can see how his hands are white from clutching book too hard. Clint shuffles closer to Steve sub consciously, eyes darting between Thor and Loki.

For a moment Steve thinks Thor is going to deny it, but Steve sometimes forgets how stubborn Thor can be, just as wilful as Loki. Thor straightens his shoulders, eyes flashing. "Good, one would hope to have some closeness if they are in a relationship with someone."

Loki puts his book down, very, very slowly. "What?"

Clint mutters a very soft  _shit._

"Sif and I are going on a date tonight," Thor says firmly, jaw set, "I asked her and she said yes."

"You asked out  _Sif?"_ Loki says in a disbelieving tone, and Steve takes that as his cue to leave. He grabs Clint's wrist, heading for the door before things start flying.

"How long is it before they bludgeon each other to death?" Clint says dryly, padding into the kitchen. He heads to the fridge, grabbing a carton of juice and throwing one to Steve. "I thought Thor was supposed to be the protective one. Or you."

"I'm not sure it's protectiveness," Steve says hesitantly, taking a sip of his juice. "I think Loki's worried Sif will take up all his time now."

"That's what being in a couple does," Clint points out, hoisting himself up onto one of the counters, "That's what's supposed to happen."

"When has Loki ever played along with the rules?" Steve asks, leaning against a counter. Clint's about to answer, when Thor comes rushing down the stairs, face furious. He grabs his car keys, doesn't look out at Steve or Clint, and rushes out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Well," Clint says calmly, "At least you'll have a bit of fun around here."

 

 

"Why's Loki walking around like someone pissed in his cornflakes?" Tony asks him on Monday morning. Tony got transferred to his Chemistry class for 'behavioural issues,' though Tony claims it was everyone else's behaviour he had an issue with.

"Thanks for that lovely imagery," Steve says sarcastically, "Tony, you have to copy down the equations."

"Tony Stark is above equations," Bruce mutters next to him, and Steve grins. Bruce is pretty quiet, but when he does talk, it's always funny. He's also phenomenally smart - Steve's not even sure why Bruce or Tony are still in high school.

"Is it 'cause Sif is banging your brother?" Tony says loudly, loud enough that the row in front of them turn around. Steve doesn't even bother being mortified, lessons with Tony have provided an immunisation to any kind of public humiliation.

"Do you want to shout that any louder?" Steve hisses, hitting him with the back of his book, "I think the class three doors down didn't hear you."

Tony, because he's a little shit, actually opens his mouth as if he's going to shout, but Bruce clamps a hand over his mouth. Bruce makes a disgusted noise when Tony licks his palm, wiping his hand on Tony's shirt.

"Do you think Loki's jealous of Thor or Sif?" Tony says thoughtfully, resting his head on his palm, "I mean, I'd bang both of them. At the same time, possibly. Could you put a camera in your brother's room, Steve?"

"I'm filming my brother having sex, Tony."

"No worries," Tony shrugs, nonchalant, "They'd probably ask me to join."

"Yeah, if you held them at gun point," Bruce mutters, and Steve has to muffle his laugh in his Chemistry book.

"Are you eating with us today?" Steve asks once the lesson is over, gathering up his things, "Or are you eating in the science lab, again?"

"We got kicked out," Tony says, scowling, "That dick head, Reed - "

"Mr Reed, Tony."

"Like I said,  _Reed,_ kicked us out for insubordinate behaviour."

"Kicked you out," Bruce says as they enter the canteen, heading for their usual table, "I didn't even do anything."

"Whatever," Tony says, sliding into a seat, "I just said his wife was hot. How is that impertinent? It was a compliment."

Steve sits next to Clint like usual, taking his sandwiches out of his bag. Clint is staring at Tony with an unimpressed expression. "How do you put up with him for a whole lesson?"

"With practise," Steve says wearily, and Clint guffaws, offering his knuckles for a fist bump. Steve returns it with a wry smile. It's not like he feels like he can feel the heat of Clint's knuckles after he pulls his fist away, because that would be pathetic. Obviously.

Loki kicks a chair back, sitting down in a chair opposite him. Steve starts at his appearance; Loki has his hood pulled up over his hair, sleeves too long and hanging over his hands. His skin is pale, dark bruises under his eyes.

Steve opens his mouth, about to ask what's wrong, when the answer appears. At least Steve assumes it's the answer - Thor, hand in hand with Sif.

"Good day, everyone," Thor says, seemingly oblivious, but Steve knows Thor. He can see the creases around his eyes, the almost indiscernible set of his jaw. Sif seems solemn too, dark eyes sombre, arms crossed as she sits next to Thor.

Clint immediately starts a conversation with Bruce, asking him about a film he's seen, and Steve's so grateful. It breaks the awkward silence, everyone beginning to talk. He squeezes Clint's thigh gently, and Clint winks at him, before delving back into his discussion. Steve's just arguing his case for Stiles - Bruce and Tony claim Derek's the best character in  _Teen Wolf,_ Clint's rooting for Lydia, - when it happens.

Steve's not even sure how it escalated so quickly, but Thor is slamming his plate down, glaring at Loki. "Do not talk about her that way!"

Steve snaps his head to look at them, at the unhappy smirk on Loki's face. "Why so chivalrous?" Loki asks, tone deliberately calm, "You didn't seem so courteous about your numerous other conquests."

Thor flushes, an angry red rising in his cheeks. "Just because you're unsuccessful in your love life, doesn't mean you can degrade mine - "

"Unsuccessful?" Loki repeats, laughing, "Or just not a whore?"

"Loki," Steve says sharply, "Stop it - "

"Not a whore?" Thor says, "No one would pick you as one, because you make yourself so undesirable."

"Opening your legs for every cheerleader doesn't make you desirable, it makes you easy."

Thor shakes his head, eyes shattered. "Well, Loki. No one could ever accuse you of being easy."

Maybe it's Thor's soft tone, Steve doesn't know, but he sees the hurt ripple across Loki's face, the anguish there, until it vanishes, like blowing out a flame. Loki gets up, grabbing his bag and leaving without a word.

"What was that?" Steve demands, angry and confused, "What the hell, Thor?"

Thor scowls, eyes still frustrated. "He insulted Sif - "

"He insults everyone," Clint mutters, "It's  _Loki."_

"Stay out of this, Barton," Thor growls, standing up. Steve stands up too, moving in front of Clint. 

"This isn't Clint's fault," Steve says firmly, "I'm going after Loki."

"I'm not coming," Thor says, and Steve gapes at him. "He can't get what he wants all the time."

"Jesus Christ," Steve swears, and grabs his own bag. He storms out, heading for the corridor, but he doesn't find Loki. He pauses down the English corridor, staring unseeingly at the work on the wall, the poems, the creative pieces, the great novels scrawled in black ink.

He wonders when they got so messed up.

 

 

 

Loki is crying when Steve gets home.

Steve feels as if his blood is freezing in his veins, his entire body going numb. His brain stumbles, unable to process the image of Loki crying, refusing to accept it, like a horse shying at a jump.

"Loki?" Steve says carefully, voice cracking in the middle, "Loki?"

Loki is lent against their desk, what looks like a newspaper print outs laying around him. The skin around his eyes is red, and Steve can see a track of a tear staining his cheek. Steve walks over to him cautiously, bending down onto his knees to face Loki.

"It was sixteen years ago," Loki whispers, and Steve can feel something dreadful curl in his stomach, the kind of fear that makes him want to gag Loki, to not tell him whatever it is that's happened.

"The accident," Loki clarifies, and he sounds numb. "The one that killed my parents. The one where the ski lift broke, and they fell to the deaths." Loki shakes his head. "I used to - whenever I had nightmares. I used to imagine I could hear their screams."

Loki looks up at him through wet lashes. "Guess what else happened sixteen years ago, Steve?"

He thrusts a newspaper print out at him. Steve takes it, forces himself to read the print:  **Obadiah Stane, Imprisoned For Life?** The date is set sixteen years previous.

"This doesn't mean anything, Loki," Steve says slowly, "You think it was Obadiah who caused the accident? By selling the ski lift company the parts that snapped? Loki, you can't prove that."

"Look at the article in the left hand corner," Loki says flatly, gesturing. Steve reads, startling when he realises it's about  _Loki,_ citing how the great engineering tycoon, Odin, has recently adopted a one year old boy.

"So?" Steve says, still not getting it, "Loki, what does this mean?"

"It was Odin's company," Loki says, and Steve's heart stops, "His company that built the ski lift. With the faulty parts Odin sold him. The metal that snapped, killing my parents. Did you not think it was a little strange we moved to Norway for four years? Why do you think that was? So Odin could escape any rumours."

"You're clutching at straws," Steve says shakily, "Just because Odin has an engineering company, it doesn't mean he was the one who made the ski lifts - "

"What are you boys doing?"

In that moment, Steve's suddenly transported back to when he was five years old, saying goodbye to his Mama for the last time. Wishing, pleading, begging for the time to stop, to just  _wait._ For everything to just pause so he doesn't have to face the future, to live in this moment forever so he doesn't have to face what's going to happen.

Steve turns around, and he hopes, for just that one second, that it's going to be false, that Odin's going to laugh it off, tell them it's ridiculous. Loki gets to his feet behind him, and he must see something in Loki's face, because Odin just  _crumples,_ as if he's a puppet and all his strings have been cut.

"Is this true?" Loki asks, his voice hard as steel, and Steve can physically feel the world change around.

"You were so small," Odin whispers, and Steve wants to cry. "We heard the couple had had - a - a child. We went to go see you in the hospital, this tiny orphan baby, and we couldn't - I couldn't just leave you - "

"So I was a way to settle your conscience?" Loki screams, and it snaps through the air like a gun shot. "I was a way of evening the scales? Save one child, it'll clear you of fact you could have killed thousands of people!"

Loki looks insane, like a demon, eyes darker than he's even seen them, black hair swirling round his face. Odin is as pale as a ghost, flinching as though he's been physically hit. "It wasn't like that, I had no idea - "

"You didn't check the fine print," Loki spits, voice pure poison, "Or you trusted the wrong person, but the consequence is still the same. My parents are  _dead,_ and it's  _all your fault._ And you thought you'd be able to remove that guilt by saving one child. Is that why you adopted Steve, because you felt so  _magnanimous_ the first time. Why not save another child, because you're such an upstanding member of society!"

Loki stills, and somehow that is even more terrifying, the sudden motionless calm. "I hate you," Loki says, and he could be commenting on the weather, "I hate you for using me as some kind of moral bargaining chip. I will never forgive you."

Odin doesn't even try to stop him, just lets him go past, face stricken. He turns to Steve, and Steve feels a sudden rush of anger. Odin better not be looking for some kind of sympathy.

"You should have told him," Steve says lowly, "You lied to him. And that is the  _worst_ thing you could have done. How can you not see how it looks?" 

He shakes his head, suddenly so furious his hands are shaking. He has to get out, out of this room, out of this house, and he runs, run down the stairs and out of the door, until his lungs burn.

 

 

Steve's phone is vibrating.

He's sitting in the park, the one he used to go to when he was little. The sky is an inky black blur, like a bruise, blacks and blues and slivers of yellow. No one's in the park, and if Steve closes his eyes, he can pretend he's all alone.

But he's not alone, and he has responsibilities, ones that weigh down on his shoulders, leave marks on his skin, cuts in the curves of his wrist, bruises on the inside of his eyelids. The thread of brotherhood, stronger than steel, wrapped around his bones.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Steve." It's Bruce's voice, thin and reedy through the phone. "Um, I'm at work - I'm a waiter - and Loki's just turned up." He pauses, and Steve pinches the skin of his wrist. "He's, er, pretty drunk."

Steve's gut twists. "Thanks, Bruce. I'll come pick him up."

The cafe Bruce works at is small, most of the lights turned off. Steve can just make out the figure of Bruce, sweeping up with a broom. Loki is slumped over one of the chairs, black hair falling into his face.

"I'm so sorry," Steve begins, pushing open the door, the little bell tinkling, "I'm so sorry, Bruce - "

Bruce shakes his head, smiling ruefully. "It's fine, we shut early today. He smells like he's fallen into a tub of liquor, though. I think he came from the bar around the corner - he was unconscious of the step outside. I only noticed him because I had to take the bins out."

Steve sinks down onto the chair next to Loki, gently carding a hand through his hair. "Thank you, Bruce. It means a lot."

Bruce pauses, glancing over Loki. "Is he okay? He kept muttering in his sleep, something about lies?"

"Hm," Steve says, heart wrenching, "Things are - a bit rough. At home. I know you won't, but please don't say anything."

"Of course not," Bruce says, shaking his head, "Look, do you want a coffee or something? Didn't you walk here? It's chilly this time of night."

Steve hadn't even noticed, but when he touches his skin it's cold as ice. He forgot to put on a jumper in his haste to get out of the house. Bruce hurries to the back of the shop, the coffee machine whirring in the background. Steve watches him blankly, shadows cast on his skin in the diminishing light.

Loki makes a little noise in his sleep, and Steve looks down on him, running a hand through Loki's hair. "I'm unimpressed with you," he tells Loki, voice stern. Loki snores, so he's obviously not that terrified.

"Here you go," Bruce says, coming back out and handing him a mug. Steve wraps his hands around it, grateful for the warmth.

"Thanks." Steve lifts his phone, waving it at him. "I texted Thor, he should be able to pick us up soon."

"Is," Bruce gestures to Loki, "Er, that, about what happened at lunch?"

"Not exactly," Steve sighs, feeling very weary, "I can't really talk about it."

"It's cool," Bruce says, shrugging, "I understand."

They sit in silence for a while, Steve taking sips of his coffee, until Thor's car pulls up. 


	2. my worst distraction (my rhythm and blues)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all the kudos and comments on this, it's crazy how much it's got, so thank you so so much!!!

Thor doesn't say anything when they clamber into the back of the car, Loki sprawling onto one of the back seats. Steve clips him in as best as he can, Loki muttering and wriggling, eyes blurry and half shut most of the time.

Thor glances at him when Steve slides into the front seat, half his face shaded in grey. "Is he okay?"

"He's drunk," Steve says honestly, turning round to check on Loki. He's asleep, mouth slack. "Did you - have you - "

"I know about Father," Thor says quietly, and Steve nods, biting the side of one cheek. "I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to hate him," Steve says quietly, "But you have to see he shouldn't have lied. I'm not even sure he should have adopted Loki, really."

Thor looks shocked, but Steve shrugs, speaking honestly. "Guilt isn't the greatest reason to adopt a child. I know it's more than that,  _I know,_ but it's still so - "

"Complex?" Thor offers, and Steve snorts. "Yeah. Complex."

"I know it was wrong," Thor whispers, hands clenched tight around the steering wheel. "But he's my father. I can't hate him. Not like Loki does."

"Loki doesn't hate him," Steve says hesitantly. He feels like he's standing on the edge of a knife blade, an inch from being cut. "He hates being lied to. He hates feeling like he's been manipulated in some way, that he's been made to look stupid. Loki's proud - "

"Loki's going to hate me," Thor interrupts miserably, slumping down in the seat. "Loki deals with hurt with rage. I'm scared he's going to hurt someone."

"I'm scared he's going to hurt himself," Steve mutters, but Thor catches it, corners of his mouth turning down. 

"I love Loki," Thor says firmly, as if it's an oath, "But I don't think he always knows that. It's been - different between him and me recently."

"Because of Sif," Steve offers, and Thor pauses, then nods, the picture of misery. "That's - "

He doesn't really know how to answer that, because he's seen the way Loki looks at Thor when he thinks no one's looking. The way the his eyes soften, face relaxing. It makes Steve's chest hurt, makes him thing of Clint, in a weird way.

"I broke up with her today," Thor blurts suddenly, eyes darting to Steve's nervously, "After I found out, I just couldn't do that any more."

"What did she say?" Steve asks, inspecting his face. "You're not bleeding, and your arms are still attached."

"We were friends," Thor says, a little desperately, "I mean the sex was - "

" - something I don't want to hear about - "

" - good," Thor finishes, "But I wasn't in love with her."

Steve doesn't know what to say, doesn't want to ask  _who are you in love with?_ so he keeps his mouth shut. They pull up outside of the house, all the lights off. Steve can make out the figures of Odin and Frigga, arms crossed and waiting. Steve slides out the car without acknowledging them, opening the car to scoop Loki up. 

"I'm taking him upstairs," Steve says to Thor, winding an arm around Loki's waist. Loki stirs, resting his head on Steve's shoulder. Thor freezes, glancing nervously back and forth.

Frigga's eyes are red rimmed when he walks past them, and he feels an uncharacteristic stab of  _good._ He's just had to pick up his little brother in the middle of the night, he's not exactly feeling charitable. Odin's face is haunted, with a flicker of fear, and Steve feels his chest squeeze, just a little.

Thor doesn't say anything either, walking straight past, apart from a hasty 'Goodnight.' Together they walk to the room, Loki lax against him. Steve gently puts Loki down on his bed.

"We need to take his clothes off," Steve says absent mindedly, shrugging his own shirt off. He pulls on an old baseball jersey, kicking off his jeans.

"Right," Thor says, hesitating, padding over to the bed. Loki snuffles a little when Thor leans over him, throwing an arm over his face, but apart from that he's still. Loki's in skinny jeans, which Steve knows will be horrible to sleep in. Thor obviously has the same thought, because he reaches for Loki's button.

Gently, Thor undoes the button. It's strange seeing Thor, who lives life with his usual eagerness and enthusiasm, act so gently. He cups Loki's slip hips with one large hand, sliding the jeans with ease. He pulls them over Loki's feet, one hand cupping the fragile bones. Steve feels intrusive watching them, Thor's coarse palm on Loki's pale skin, and has to look away.

Thor steps back, arranging the blankets so Loki is covered up, then turns off the light.

 

 

It's awkward in the morning. Loki must have been sick in the night, because his pallor is an unhealthy grey. He refuses breakfast, staying curled up on his bed, headphones in. Steve and Thor exchange nervous glances, but neither of them are brave enough to break the tense silence. Loki heads out of the car the moment the get to school, not even slamming it.

His passivity is worrying. When Loki is hurt, it's like ice, cracking and splintering, cold hands sliding under your skin. When Loki is angry, it's like fire, a roar of flames that burns you to touch.

"We should give him some space," Thor says quietly, and Steve glances at him. They're both standing in the busy corridor, watching as Loki heads off. Thor is biting his lip, arms dangling helplessly at his side.

"It'll be okay," Steve says, bumping him with his shoulder. Thor nods, squeezing his arm, before heading off to talk to some of his football friends. Steve sighs, before heading off to find Clint.

"Hey," Clint says when he sees him, then "Woah!" when Steve immediately pulls him into a big hug. Clint smells nice, clean and spicy, and he's soft against Steve. He hugs Steve back, wiry arms wrapping around him, fingers tangling in the blond hair at the nape of Steve's neck. "What's the matter, big guy?"

Steve pulls back, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve. Clint is looking at him concernedly, big brown filled with worry. He cocks his head to one side, and Steve twists his hands in the hem of Clint's jumper, barely noticing his actions.

"Just family stuff," he shrugs, and Clint's expression relaxes minimally. He clears his throat. "Not exactly looking forward to a whole day of school."

Immediately, Clint's expression changes to mischievous, amusement dancing in his eyes. "So...let's skip?"

Steve would seriously like to give Clint a lecture on how skipping lessons is irresponsible, that the amount of work they have to do is too great to miss, but he really can't be bothered, so he lets Clint tug him to the playing fields round the back of the school. Coach Grimm doesn't even raise an eyebrow when Clint tells him they have to practise for 'sports day.' 

"Sports day," Coach Grimm says flatly, as Clint grabs some arrows and a bow from the sports cupboard. "I wasn't aware we even had a sports day organised."

"I have it on good confirmation that Principal Fury is participating in the javelin," Clint says smoothly, and Steve has to physically shove his fist in his mouth to stop laughing.

Clint leads the way to the targets out back, doing clever archery things until he's ready to shoot.

"So," Clint says, and lets his arrow fly so it hits the bullseye, "I'm guessing the topic that begins with 'b' and rhymes with 'mothers' is off limits?"

"Yes," Steve says firmly, because he really doesn't want to talk about it. "Let's talk about something else."

"Fair enough," Clint shrugs, and heads to collect his arrow. See, this is why Steve adores Clint, because he'll let it go, no explanations needed. He knows Steve will talk when he wants to.

"So, you know Darcy in our science class?" Clint asks, notching another arrow. "The cute brunette, really, really smart. Has a massive - "

Steve coughs pointedly, and Clint glares at him. "Personality! I was going to say personality, God. Anyway, I think she's got a crush on you."

"Really?" Steve asks, scrunching up his nose. He settles down to sit on the grass by the archery range, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Um, okay."

Clint shoots him a withering look. "Don't sound too excited, Steve. I think she likes me as well, actually. We could triple date."

"I'm not triple dating with you," Steve says, more calmly than he feels, because if he edits out Darcy (poor girl), then a date with Clint sounds pretty nice.

"Suit yourself," Clint says, "You're missing a stellar opportunity, Rogers."

Steve's quiet for a while, silent apart from the _thwack_ of Clint's arrow hitting the target.

"So who do you like?" Clint asks finally, scowling at his target. Steve can't see anything but a perfect bullseye, but Clint insists it's a fraction off.

"What about Tash?" Clint offers, "Though she's pretty terrifying. Unless that's what you're in to."

"I'm pretty sure that's objectification."

"Fine. She's her own free object who can object with anyone else, okay?"

"You're missing the point."

"Whatever," Clint sighs dramatically. He carefully puts his bow down, smoothing a hand over the wood. He retrieves his arrow from the target, gently placing them back into the quiver, then collapses in a heap next to Steve. The sunlight dances across his face, and his hair is sticking up at the back.

"What if - " Steve says slowly, heart beating loud enough he's worried Clint can hear it. He swallows, twisting his shirt in his hands. "What if it wasn't a girl. Then what would you say?"

"I would say," Clint says slowly, "That I've jerked off to Derek Hale in the shower."

Steve bursts out laughing, relief flooding through his veins like a warm caress. "You're such a good person," he blurts, and it's incredibly sappy but he can't help it. Clint smiles, eyes squinting in the sun, his lips curving. 

"I don't know if Tyler Hoechlin would agree," Clint says slowly, smiling, "You know I don't care about things like that, right? I don't care whether you like girls or boys. Unless you like someone really weird, like Fury - "

"Ew!" Steve whines, shoving Clint in the side, "No, I don't like Fury. That's disgusting, shut up."

"Each to their own," Clint says slyly, and catches Steve's hands when he goes to poke him. "Hey, knock it off! I have sensitive ribs." He catches Steve's hands, entwining their fingers, a steady pressure. They lie side by side, until the bell goes, then Clint hauls him up. 

"C'mon," he says, dusting off his jeans and grabbing his archery equipment, "I'm not letting you miss two lessons, even one can seriously endanger your performance - "

"Okay," Steve says, rolling his eyes. "You can stop taking the piss now, and I definitely didn't say  _endanger - "_

"Definitely did," Clint retorts, "You realise I'm going to hold this over your head for the rest of your life? The fact you -  _Steven Rogers -_ missed a  _lesson."_

"You know I'm not such a goody goody," Steve protests, scowling slightly.

"Oh, I know," Clint grins, just the right side of sharp, "That's why I like you so much."

Steve inhales, unsure why he feels like he's just been hit by a truck, and Clint smirks, low and dirty, and saunters off. 

 

 

Obviously, because Steve is incapable of catching a break, he really should have expected to walk into school to find complete chaos. There's shouting coming from Fury's office, and Steve's strains his ears, trying to hear what's going on. He hears someone call his name, and turns to see Bruce rushing up to him. Bruce looks more ruffled than Steve's ever seen him; Steve's never found out what happened with Bruce last year, but he normally exudes calm. Like's he's got his emotions tamped down so tight, you can see the marks of the ties on his skin.

Bruce is flushed, a lock of curly hair falling over his forehead. "Steve," he says desperately, slightly out of breath, "Loki's framed Tony."

"What?" Steve asks, incredulous, "How? When? He's only been in school for an hour!"

Bruce opens his mouth to answer, but that's when the door to Fury's office flies open. A furious Howard Stark stalks out, brows creased in anger. He's in the middle of argument with Tony, who looks as though he might cry.

"It's the fact you had to ask!" Tony's yelling, and Bruce is there in an instant, pulling Tony away from Howard. Howard spins and sees Steve, and Steve braces himself, preparing for the ensuing chaos.

Howard seems to deflate when he sees Steve, though. He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his stubble. "Talk to your brother," he says quietly, and his dark eyes flash with regret. Then he straightens his shoulders, and his old mask is back. "Come on, Tony."

Tony is curled into Bruce's side, his face pressed into Bruce's neck, fists clenched in Bruce's shirt. Bruce is murmuring in his ear, gently stroking his back. Howard watches them with a heavy expression, until he leaves abruptly, turning on his heel so hard it makes a noise.

"Tony?" Steve asks hesitantly, "Are you okay?"

Tony takes a shuddering breath, gently detangling himself from Bruce. He wipes his eyes with the fists on his hands, and Bruce keeps one finger hooked in Tony's belt loops. "Loki puts drugs in my locker," Tony says flatly, and Steve feels his heart sink down to his stomach. "Coincidentally, the police were called this morning with an anonymous tip off."

Steve gapes at him. "Jesus, have you been expelled?"

"No," Tony says, shaking his head, bitterness etched in his face, "Daddy paid a nice big check." Bruce makes a little whiny nose at the back of his throat, and Tony softens slightly, gazing downwards.

"How do you know it was him?" Steve asks, frantic, "Are you sure - "

"Howard told me about Obadiah," Tony says quietly, his mouth set in a grim line, "Odin called him last night, after - well. And I wasn't the only one who's locker got searched. Sif found drugs in hers too, she's already been pulled out."

"I'm so sorry," Steve says pleadingly, reaching out to gently touch Tony's arm, "I'll talk to Loki, I don't - "

"It's cool," Tony says, and when Steve looks at him his eyes are steady. Wet, but full of steel. "It's pretty shitty, what Odin did. I get that. Dad's are shit. So is planting drugs in someone's locker, but - I get it."

"Doesn't mean I won't punch his face in," Bruce mutters, and Tony rolls his eyes, fondness shining clear through the hazel. "I don't know where he is, Steve. He didn't turn up to drama."

"Probably because he's created enough of his own," Tony mutters, and Bruce shushes him, placing a soft kiss in Tony's hair. Steve smiles at him, feels his heart lift slightly at the sight of them.

"Thanks," he says softly, and leaves them to it.

He has no idea where Loki is, and Steve's so  _angry_ he wants to punch something. He knows Loki's devastated, but he can't believe this, can't believe Loki would do this, would risk people's futures like that. It hurts in the worst way, like betrayal, like treason. It cuts like a knife, blisters like an open sore, having someone so close to you do that, act like that. _Be that person who plays with fate._

He finds Loki back at home. He runs there, sends Thor a desperate text after three miscalls. Loki's curled up in one of the chairs downstairs, flicking through a book. He looks up when Steve comes in, panting, fists clenched. Ever so slowly, he licks his thumb and turns the page.

Steve wants to  _smack_ him.

"What is wrong with you?" he hisses, and drops his bag to the floor with a slam. Loki jumps at the snap in his voice, startled, but Steve continues. "Tony could have been  _expelled,_ I don't even know what happened to Sif! I get you're upset, but you talk to me, you talk to Thor - "

"I don't need a fucking therapist!" Loki spits, pushing up from the sofa furiously, "You think I can just have a chat and everything will be  _fine?_ Odin has to pay for what he did - "

"By throwing Tony under the bus?" Steve spits, "He's got nothing to do with this,  _it's not his fault -_

"That's the fucking problem!" Loki shouts, and Steve recoils. He's never seen Loki raises his voice, never. "It's no one's fault, there's no one to blame, there's no way to justify this because  _my parents are dead._ They are  _dead,_ there is nothing to be done - "

Loki breaks off, voice cracking. He looks vulnerable, lost, like there are giant cracks running through him, splitting him in half and letting the wind blow through. "Loki," Steve says softly, stepping closer. "I'm sorry. But I get it.  _You know_ I get it."

Loki nods, sniffling. Steve takes a deep breath. "But you have to know, it's not right what you've done - "

Immediately Loki's back on the offensive, the slightest confrontation setting him off. That's how Loki is - he doesn't forgive, he doesn't forget, and when he's cornered he's like a caged tiger, lashing out at anyone who comes near. "Don't talk to me about what's right - "

It's then that Thor stumbles in, chest heaving as he falls through the door. He freezes, looking between Steve and Loki, then swallows. "Brother," he begins, and Steve cringes.

"I'm not your  _brother!"_ Loki screams, and throws his book at Thor's head. Thor ducks. Steve sighs and picks up the book. This is only going to get worse. "Or did your precious Odin not tell you - "

"Don't put this on me!" Thor snaps, and that's the thing about Thor. Stubborn, brave and obstinate to the last. Thor will admit when he's wrong, but he's not in this case - not really - and that's why this is only going one way. "This is about you, what have you done to Sif - "

"How can you even bring her into this? Is that really your own concern, what happened to your  _girlfriend - "_

"You framed her to get back at me, don't deny it. You had some motive for Stark, but not for her - "

"Is that really the only reason you care? Really, Thor? You're going to bring her up, that's really the thing you want to talk about - " _  
_

"You want to talk about what happened, fine, but I can't bring your family back, Loki." Thor's voice cracks, just like Loki'd had, "I can't _do that."_

"We're your family," Steve interjects, coming to stand by Thor, "If you're angry, upset, you can talk to  _us._ We're your  _brothers,_ you can trust us."

Loki looks down at the floor, crumpling his hands into fists. He sways a little, indecisive, his pale face flitting through thousands of emotions. "I don't fit in," he says finally, and his voice is one of terrible, terrible recognition.

"Loki, what are you saying?" Thor gasps, rushing to him. Loki stiffens, but doesn't push Thor's arm away. Thor squeezes Loki into his side, face troubled. "Of course you belong, Steve and I  _love you."_

Loki nods, but Steve feels - uncomfortable. Loki hasn't unlocked his limbs, sitting stiffly in Thor's arms. Thor looks bewildered, hurt. He keeps running one hand along Loki's side, but Loki isn't reacting. 

"I'm not like you," Loki says softly, "I wouldn't have comforted you, if you'd been the one to do this, I wouldn't have forgiven you. Sif might get expelled."

"Yes, you would have," Steve says fiercely, kneeling down in front of Loki "You would, you have to give yourself more credit."

"I've already given myself enough," Loki says in a small voice, and Steve's heart drops. Loki lets out a shuddering sigh, standing up. "I'll apologise to Tony, okay? And Sif."

"Okay," Thor says softly, eyes tired, "We'll talk to Odin."

"Thanks," Loki says quietly, then heads to the bathroom. Steve feels uneasy, and he doesn't feel any better when Thor shares the same expression. 

 

 

 

They talk to Odin. Though, it's less talking and more shouting. Odin shouts. Thor shouts. Steve shouts. But Thor and Steve can shout louder, and Odin leaves, red faced and shamful. Loki is asleep when they get back to their room - or at least pretending to be, curled up in bed. Steve hesitates by his bed, but leaves him to it. You can't push Loki.

 

 

 

Loki doesn't sit with them at lunch the next day. Steve walks into the canteen, gets to their usual table, and realises that his brother is missing.

"Where's Loki?" Steve asks cautiously, still holding onto his tray. Clint swallows a mouthful of food, wiping his mouth, then gestures to a corner off the canteen. Steve looks over; Loki is sitting at one of the smaller tables, all by himself.

"I'm going over," Steve says immediately, "Tell Thor where I am." Natasha is the only one at the table anyway, and she seems to have a silent conversation with Clint, before he nods, rising as well.

"I'll come too," he says, grabbing his own tray, and Steve smiles at him. He's not sure how to express the feeling of gratitude, but Clint must get it, because he nudges Steve with his elbow and smiles.

Loki looks up when Steve sits down, face twisting into a grimace. "You should sit with your friends."

"So should you. Shut up and come back to the table."

Loki shakes his head, eyes on the worn tabletop. "Tony and Sif won't want me there. There's no point ruining it for you."

"You're not ruining it for us," Steve protests, "We want you there. Loki, stop - "  _Stop pulling away,_ he wants to say, because this is what Loki is doing. He's putting up walls, retreating behind barricades so no one can get to him. It scares Steve, scares him breathless, because Loki's his  _brother,_ but they might as well be strangers with the good that's doing.

Loki just shakes his head, putting his headphones back in. Clint makes an aborted movement, like he was going to yank them out, but thought better of it. "Fine," he says firmly, picking up his sandwich, dropping his bag onto the floor. He roots around in his bag, before pulling out a battered iPod.

Clint scrolls carefully through the songs, before grinning and offering a headphone to Steve. Steve widens his eyes at him, then realises what he's doing. Clint winks at him, and Steve swallows, blinking back tears. Cautiously, he reaches out and grasps Clint's hand in his own, squeezing. Clint squeezes back, and Steve puts the headphone in. Then he pulls it out, barely a second later.

" _Me and you and your friend Steve?_ Seriously, Clint?"

"It's out song," Clint says seriously, then cracks up laughing. Steve laughs too, glancing at Loki. His heart sinks when he realises Loki hasn't reacted at all, staring down at his tray. 

They sit in silence for the whole of lunch, never leaving Loki's table. Steve's hopeful when the bell rings that he's had some kind of impact, but Loki just leaves the table, not looking back.

Clint nudges him. "Is he going to be okay?"

Steve sighs, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "I hope so."

"Well, you're going to have a fun spring break," Clint says dryly, raising an eyebrow when Steve frowns at him. "Dude, it's spring break in like, two days. You remember Stark going on about how he's going to spend it creating fireworks or something?"

Steve shakes his head, biting his lip. "I guess I just forgot. Everything's been a bit - "

"Psychotic?"

"Complex."

"Right, well have fun with that. A whole week with Loki." Clint cocks his head to one side. "Do you want to come to mine for the week? My foster parents won't mind." 

"Thanks," Steve says softly, but shakes his head. "But I don't think I can leave at a time like this." 

Clint shrugs, not offended. "I thought you'd say that, but you're always welcome."

"I know," Steve says, and smiles for what seems like the first time all day, "I know."

 

 

 

It's dark when Steve wakes up that night. He frowns before opening his eyes, tempted just to drift off again. He's not sure what's woke him, when he hears the roar of an engine outside. He blinks sleepily, sitting up. Thor is asleep in the bed next to him, arm thrown over his eyes. Steve smiles slightly; Thor sleeps like a puppy, arms and legs splayed everywhere. It's cute.

He turns to look over at Loki's bed, then freezes. Loki's bed is empty, duvet shoved back. With a sickeningly dread, Steve notices that all Loki's drawers are empty, pulled back and bare. Loki's phone lays abandoned on the bedside table.

"Thor," Steve hisses, sliding out of bed. He shoves Thor in the shoulder. "Thor - OUCH!" Thor flips over in his sleep, hitting Steve in the face and knocking him to the floor.

"Steve?" Thor says sleepily, peering over the edge of the bed. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Because you just shoved me on the floor," Steve hisses, grabbing one of his pillows and smacking Thor with it. "C'mon, I think Loki's run away."

"What?" Thor gasps, shoving up from the bed. He moves quickly, running over to Loki's side of the room. "All his clothes are gone, and - " Thor swears. "Loki's taken my car keys, I'm going to kill him. Well. I'm going to find him. Then I'm going to kill him."

"We need a car," Steve says firmly, "I'm going to call Clint. Pack some stuff."

Thor makes a face. "Clint drives like a mad man."

"Seriously? That's what you're focusing on? We have to find Loki!"

"We can't find him if we die in a car crash."

Steve's brother is an idiot. 

"Where do you think he's gone?" Steve asks nervously, once he's called Clint and made him promise not to run the red lights in his haste to get over there. "He's taken all his stuff."

Thor shakes his head, skin around his mouth tight. "I don't know, I know he's upset but - I don't. I want him to come back." He cocks his head to one side. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"Only when you drink straight from the cartoon," Steve quips, then frowns when he sees Thor's face, "Hey, this isn't your fault. You didn't do this. It was a horrible, horrible accident, that should have been explained a long time ago. It's fine, Loki's probably gone to get some coffee or something."

"Yeah, because you usually take your entire wardrobe to the coffee shop," Thor sighs, but he presses closer to Steve. 

There's the sound of a horn beeping outside, and they scramble to their feet. Steve grabs the bag Thor packed, hooking one hand in Thor's belt loops as they stumble down the stairs. They try and be as quiet as possible - it's an unspoken agreement they're not waking Odin and Frigga on this one.

Clint looks at them anxiously when Steve climbs into the front, Thor trying to fit his bulky frame into the back. "Are you okay? Do you know where he's gone?"

Steve shakes his head, and Clint starts the engine, pulling out of the drive. Clint's car is essentially a skip with an engine, but it's his baby, plus it works which is all Steve's asking for right now. "No idea, maybe try driving towards the outskirts of town? He packed loads so - "

The unspoken  _packed for what_ hangs in the air. Clint reaches over and squeezes Steve's hand. He almost kills a cat that's lying in the road to do it, but Steve appreciates the thought.

"Hang on, my phone's ringing," Steve frowns, pressing the answer button, "Hello?"

"Steve?" Bruce's voice says through the phone, and Steve's stomach flips, nostalgic of the last time Bruce phoned him and Loki was AWOL. "Loki showed up like, five minutes ago. He asked to apologise to Tony, then took off. He's heading out of town - " There's clattering in the background, then Tony's voice shouts: "He looked bat-shit crazy!" then the sound of Bruce shushing Tony. 

"Wait there, we'll pick you up," Steve says firmly, and Clint swerves so rapidly Steve gets head rush, "Clint!"

"I'll be sick in your car," Thor threatens, and Clint twists round, insult on his lips, but Steve shoves him in the shoulder. They are all going to die. "Eyes on the road!"

"He better not be sick in my baby," Clint threatens, scowling, "Why are we picking the science club up?"

"Because they might have an idea where Loki's going," Steve says, pocketing his phone, "Turn left here."

Bruce and Tony are waiting outside the coffee shop. Tony takes one look at the back of the car, and announces cheerfully, "I guess we won't all fit with Hercules over there. Oh well, I'll have to sit on Bruce's lap."

"No, you won't," Clint hisses, glaring at him, "That's illegal, I'll get in trouble."

"You just ran three red lights!" 

"Shut up, they were  _yellow - "_

"They were yellow if you're  _colour blind - "_

"Get off my lap, Tony - "

"Put your seatbelt on, Stark - "

"I'm not  _colour blind - "_

"Oh my  _God,_ " Steve snaps, slamming his hand on the dashboard. "Thor, Clint, shut up. Tony put your seatbelt on. Our brother is  _missing,_ there are more important things to worry about."

Thor snorts, but shuts his mouth. Tony slides off Bruce's lap, grumbling. Bruce looks vaguely relieved. Clint shoots Steve a hurt look. "I thought I was your favourite."

Steve sighs. "You're my favourite if you don't get us killed in a traffic collision."

Clint beams brightly, and Steve rolls his eyes, but can't quite hide his smile. He ducks his head, then turns to the back of the car. "Right, where did Loki seem like he was going?"

"Definitely out of town," Bruce nods, eyes wide, "His bag was huge, plus he was driving Thor's car. You don't take that unless you're going somewhere far away."

"Like the fiery pits of hell," Tony mutters, then winces when Bruce kicks him. "What! It was a  _suggestion._ Look, have you tried calling him? Just I've heard the reception is terrible once you get to Hades."

"Well we won't have that problem, because Loki's left his phone at home," Steve says snidely, rolling his eyes. 

"We'll head for out of town," Clint says firmly, putting his foot on the accelerator, "We'll find him."

Maybe the gravity of the situation finally sets in, but everyone is strangely quiet. It's dark, it's really early in the morning, and the only light is the eerie glow of the street lamps. The shadows hide the face of everyone in the car, darkening Clint's eyes, turning Thor's hair silver, glinting off Tony's hoodie zip. It makes Steve's skin crawl, and suddenly all he wants is to see his brother, to make sure Loki is safe.

The fear hits him with dizzying waves, drowning him and consuming him, when he feels warm fingers link with his. It grounds him, pulling him back down, tethering him to the present. He glances at Clint, but it's Thor, leaning forward in his seat and squeezing his hand. Steve swallows, hard, and squeezes back. 

"There!" Clint says suddenly, and it's as if all the air rushes back into the vehicle, "What should I do? Should I ram him?"

"No!" Steve says immediately, gaping at him, "Don't - "

"Ram him," Tony says loudly, kicking the back of Clint's seat, "Then he'll stop."

"Don't you dare," Thor snaps, shoving Tony in the arm, "Loki's safety is nothing to joke about."

"You just care about your car," Bruce says sceptically, and Tony looks so delighted that Bruce's backing him up, that Steve has to intervene before Tony has sex with Bruce in Clint's car. 

"Just flash your lights till he pulls over," Steve suggests, heart in his mouth. He really doesn't want to have to re-enact a  _Fast and Furious_ scene, mainly because Clint probably believes he  _is_ in  _Fast and Furious_ anyway.

Thankfully, Loki does pull over at the lay-by at the side of the road. They're on one of the roads that isn't that busy, but it's cold out and the occasional jeep zooms past. "This was be a good place to bury a body," Tony says casually, and Thor punches him in the arm.

They all traipse out of the car, as does Loki. Loki looks small and sad, tugging the sleeves of his jumper down over his hands. "Loki," Steve says helplessly, "Where are you going?"

Loki bites his lip, shaking his head. "I'm not part of this family any more. It's not just Odin, I messed up. I was so, so angry with Stark and I lashed out - I can't. I can't let Thor - let you both be around that, it's  _wrong,_ it's  _twisted."_ He shakes his head, and he looks so lost Steve wants to cry. "I don't think I was meant to have a family," Loki says so softly it almost gets carried away by the wind, "It's better to accept that now."

Thor stumbles forward, but freezes when Loki takes a step back like a scared animal. "But where would you  _go?_ You belong here, with us - "

"To visit my parent's graves," Loki says quickly, rushing over his words as if they hurt to say, "I've got some money, I'd find somewhere. Just go, Thor, Steve. It's better for all of us."

He thinks he's protecting them, Steve realises, and he thinks back to that conversation in the bathroom. It seems like ages ago. Loki thinks that Steve and Thor are no longer unconditional - that Loki is tainted by what Odin died, corroded until Steve and Thor won't want him any more.

And Steve knows what to do.

"Fine," Steve says, and he can hear the intake of everyone's breath. He feels a little like laughing. "You want to run away? Good." He slaps Clint on the arm, making him wince. "Good thing I've been to so many of Clint's track meets then, because  _I'm coming too."_

There's a moment of shocked silence, then Thor snorts, coming to stand by Steve's elbow. "I actually am on the track team, so I am also well-prepared." He gives Steve a fist bump, which makes Steve want to cry in a weird way.

"What - " Loki begins, but Clint is frowning now, elbowing his way between Thor and Steve. "Hey, I'm on track, too," he whines, and Steve gapes at him, wide-eyed.

"Clint, you don't have to - " he begins, but Clint just slaps a hand over Steve's mouth. "Where you go, I go, and all that crap," Clint shrugs, eyes shining, and Steve  _physically can't do this._

He reels Clint in, kissing him, and Clint squeaks, surprised. He kisses back almost instantly, hands gripping Steve's hair tightly. Steve groans, deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue past Clint's lips, chasing the taste of them. Clint is soft and pliant in his arms, hands fisted in his Steve's shirt, and Steve feels as if his heart is going to explode.

"Ahem," Tony says loudly, then kicks Clint's skin. "Yeah, okay, enough with the free porno." Clint flips him off, but then turns to grin at Steve. Steve grins back, deliriously happy, and they link hands, words enough for them.

"You can't come," Loki says weakly, and Steve flushes when he realises he almost forgot what this was all about. Oops. He is a terrible brother. But Clint is a brilliant kisser, so. It's totally his fault.

"We're not leaving you," Steve says firmly, and sees the last of Loki's resolve crumble, "You want to go see your parent's graves, then fine. But we're coming with you. We'll figure this out together."

Loki takes a deep breath. "Okay."

Thor blinks. "Okay?"

"Well, it's not like I can stop you," Loki says wryly, but then a car flashes by, light illuminating Loki's face, and Steve can see how his eyes are full of tears, a stray drop sliding down his cheeks.

"Loki," Thor breathes, then they're both barrelling forward, wrapping Loki up in a hug. Loki wriggles in the grasp, but he hugs back, burrowing his face in Steve's shoulder, skinny arms wrapped around his waist. Thor's strong arm is around Steve's shoulders, with Loki's hand grabbing Thor's sleeve. Steve closes his eyes, feels his brothers around him, and his chest loosens.

"Where ever you want to go," Thor says firmly when they pull back, "We're on a break anyway, we'll do it together."

"Leeches," Loki mutters, but his laugh is shaky, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. Thor squeezes his hand, and Steve turns to Clint.

Clint's on the phone, finishing off a conversation. He raises an eyebrow at Steve, ending the call. "Told the 'rents I'm going camping for a week. Spouted about how it'd be good for my 'emotional development.' My foster mom's going to come pick the car up."

His grin is bright, but slightly lopsided, and Steve hooks an arm around his waist, pulling him close. "Hey," he says softly, and Clint looks up at him through his lashes, resting against his cheeks. "Hey," Clint says quietly, and kisses him, quick and sweet. 

Loki and Thor are embracing again, Loki's head tucked into Thor's neck. Thor whispers something into Loki's ear, and Steve sees the way Loki nods slowly, his entire body unclenching. Thor's hands almost fit around Loki's whole waist, and Loki leans up on tip-toe, whispering something back. Steve squeezes Clint's hand, and averts his eyes.

"Well, we're coming," Tony drawls, and Bruce bites his lip. Loki gives him a scrutinising look, but some message must pass between them, because he inclines his head. Bruce smiles slightly, then tugs Tony down onto the dirt in the lay-by, laughing as Tony squeals.

"Might as well join them," Clint shrugs, tugging Steve down, "We've got to wait for my foster mom anyway, like I'm leaving my baby here unattended."

"This is like some fucking hipster film," Loki mutters, but sits down next to Thor. He links their ankles quietly, and Thor puts an arm around him, Loki resting his head on Thor's shoulder. Clint drops down into Steve's lap unceremoniously, leaning his back against Steve's chest. Steve hands come to rest on Clint's hips lightly, and Clint sighs, happy. 

They sit in the lay-by, cars whizzing by, headlights as bright as the stars above. It's noisy, and it's cold, and Clint won't stop wiggling in his lap, and Tony keeps bitching about how he wants to sit in  _Bruce's_ lap, and Clint keeps shoving his freezing cold nose in Steve's neck. Loki's asking when is  _your mother turning up, Barton, God,_ and Thor is silently braiding Loki's hair without him noticing, winking at Steve, and it feels like  _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending is a bit ambiguous so I'm sorry? It's just how I wanted to go with it...um sorry?! but I enjoyed this a lot, and I'm glad I did something like it :)
> 
> also I apologise for the lack of thorki - I couldn't see how to work it in, so it's how you interpret it? I think it was a deeper bond than brotherhood, with hints of ust... I feel like I made a mess of this, sorry :(
> 
> BUT I TRIED :) so thank you everyone for reading :)
> 
> (anyone reading this waiting for stephanie rogers fic, itshouldbeheresometimenextweekshhhdon'ttell)


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